In Memory of Bryan Klungreseter

Medieval Times,Uncle B and Kate Marie

2010-03-02T18:37:00.000-08:00

Last weekend was Kate Marie's 10th birthday and we started celebrating on Friday night and the party wasn't over until Sunday afternoon! It all started with a wonderous "Ladies Only"dinner, make over and sleep over at the Fitzpatrick's house. Since I was regulated to the "Boring Boys Only" pizza surprise and Olympic watching festival, I can't give a personnel review of the nights events. However, rumor has it that a future Miss Teen Queen and red carpet walker or three might be in this group of simply beautiful and charming little ladies. I saw pictures of the make overs and all I can say is that all the daddy's better get all their guns in order so they can be ready as they all grow up. I think the head count was 13 or 14 young girls all full of cupcakes and punch and they went late into the night before giving up the ghost and catching some much needed shut eye.
We all got up the next morning, granted some of us earlier than others, and started preparing for our next adventure, the trip to Medieval Times to see the knights joust and fight and be treated as royalty at the King's table. For Victoria and I both it brought strong emotions as the last time we visited was in January of 2006 and the ring leader of that fantastic trip was none other than Uncle B himself. Boy did Bryan know how to throw a party or shindig and have everyone around him clutching themselves with belly laughs and to watch him work the servers was pure magic. We weren't even all seating at our eating table and he had our waitress falling all over herself to keep us happy. Bryan also appreciated good service and when tip time came around, he rewarded the great service he usually got. Plus it seems as if his wallet had no "empty" and we enjoyed everything they had to offer and we all left elated with our experience. This, as I stated, brought with it some very hard times as we thought about missing him so much and wondering if the ache ever does go away. This trip was a little different as "Grandpa Birthday" now trying to fill two pair of shoes that quite simply have him overmatched, still put up a pretty good fight. The show was just as good as we remembered and I think Peter was so mezmorized that he forgot he didn't like to eat and chowed down on the vittles that were supplied. Heck, even Nathan, who I have never seen eat much of anything, ate his whole chicken and toast and said after it was all said and done that he was quite "stuffed". I don't even think anyone minded the long trip home and I confess that riding with the Fitzpatrick's is very eductional. Did you know that the Ford logo on their cars is the orginal one from when they started in 1903? Also how many of you knew that Albert Switzer was a great artist as well as a concert pianist? But what he truly loved was the people of Africa and he devoted his life to them as a missionary. Who knew? Not me that's for sure.

After church the next morning we took Kate Marie with us and we were on a bicycle quest. She had out grown her old one and a new bike was tops on her birthday wish list. Grandma and Grandpa were up to the task and we soon hit all the bike hotspots with not much luck. Grandma and Kate had to keep reminding Grandpa that they had seen one that she really liked at Walmart over by our house. Finally after a very nice breakfast at Carnitias Express, which I highly recommend, we made our way to the Walmart of Murrieta. Once we were among the bikes and had found the bike the Kate had liked, a very interresting thing occured. A very nice sales lady by the name of Jill came by and asked if we needed any assistance. I was about to say no thank you when she said, "I just took a bike that was returned to the back and it's very nice and if you want to look at it I can bring it out and by the way it's half price." Cha-ching! Grandpa's eyes grew wide with that pronouncement and he told her to bring it on. She went to the back room and came out with a very attractive looking purple girls bike and Kate said, "I really like that one." After a few quick lessons from Grandma on the proper way to get on the bike with a dress on, she was riding up and down the aisle on her almost new purple birthday bike! It was such a good deal that when we tried to get out the front door with it, the poor checkout lady almost had a heart attack over it and we went through a five minute ordeal proving that it was only half price.

The whole weekend I thought about Bryan and how he made these little family affairs special for all of us. I guess it will always ache, but I do know that he's home now and watching over us all and I'll bet he got a big ole Uncle B belly laugh as he saw us celebrate Kate Marie's big day.

I've rambled on so long that it's time for bed, so until I write again, remember to keep those cards and letters coming!

The Four of Us

2010-02-24T20:06:00.000-08:00

Hi. It is Kelly--not my Dad. Sorry to disappoint. I hijacked his blog. Just couldn't help myself. I wanted to make sure this photo found its place here. It made me grin. The four of us at my godfather's retirement party in the very early '90s. The bulky shoulder pads on Mom and me give the decade away. At least we don't have the big bang thing going on. AquaNet was my friend in the '80s. And Bryan in a suit--a rare find!

The Four of Us. It makes me sad that we won't have anymore family photos. Our family is getting ready to take our yearly family picture (though it has been more than one year since the last one!) and I was lamenting that Bryan wouldn't be in it. But then again, he only endured them out of courtesty to me and Mom. Lucky bro, you are off the hook this time! And I am so thankful that we have so many of us all together. They are priceless treasures.

How are you all doing? It was nice to see the Klungreseter Klan a few weeks ago. I have some fun photos of our time together. But not of all the marinara sauce slurping down my chin as I devoured a BellyBuster from Busy Bee. That will remain a mental image for you lucky ones!

Miss you!

"Grief is what cultivates the soil for the seeds of joy. " Ann Voskamp

Super Sunday

2010-02-10T16:35:00.000-08:00

It was Superbowl Sunday last week and Bryan would have found it special that it was also his birthday weekend. He liked the hoopla surrounding the game and like many of us, found the game to be of secondary interest, that is as long as his beloved Chiefs or his adopted Chargers were not playing.This year we decided to celebrate his big day at home, all together watching the game and doing what we do best, graze.Another big attraction of course are the commercials, but I must say they lacked quite a bit to be desired this year.

When Bryan worked at Hennessey's, they would hold big gala super bowl parties with special foods and prizes. He loved it when he could talk us into coming there for the big game and of the course different years, we would do it. The problem was, he would be crazy busy and could hardly spend any time with us and those hard little chairs are very rough on my big boy rump. We did however manage to win a few raffles and did in fact enjoy the times that we did make it. I'm pretty sure we even did it once or twice with the whole family, but it was definitely not a place to have your children watch people get nuts and out of hand. Still it was the life that he chose and we all wanted to make a effort to be a part of it with him.

This year's game was much better than many and even had the Fitzpatricks rooting for their team, the Aint's, and the Klungrester's pulling for the Inndy boys just so we go have something to cheer about against one another. By half time we pretty much lost all the Fitzpatrick children to a higher calling, with the exception of Samuel, who would bounce in every once in awhile to check out to see if his Saints were ahead. This allowed us to watch the commericals, opps I mean game, without interruption. We all laughed until we almost cried on the Doritos one were the dock put the collar on his master and started to stun him. Funny, very funny....

As for the grazing part, we had food, food and more food and when we got done with that we had more food for dessert. Victoria cooked a ham and although it was a little over done, it was still the best ham and cheese on out of this world rye bread that I've encounter in quite so time. We even had a veggie tray just so we could say we had a little healthy food too. We had way to many other goodies to list here but just suffice to say, we didn't run out at any time.

After the game and before they had to go home, we had the world's smallest birthday cake, as if we needed more, and sang happy birthday to Bryan. I prayed for all of us and although I can't remember all of it, I know that most of all I asked that God would give us all peace with knowing that Bryan was with him and having one of his best birthdays ever. I also continue to pray that all of my loved ones, friends and co-workers come to his amazing grace and that we will all be heaven together when it is our time to be with him. Until next time, keep them cards and comments coming and I'll talk to you all later........

Birthday Blues

2010-02-05T13:59:00.000-08:00

Today is Bryan's 38th birthday and I must confess I've been feeling a large dose of the blues coming on all week. February 5th will always be Bryan's birthday and I suspect it will also always be a difficult time for all of us who love him dearly. Victoria and I spoke about our family and birthdays and had a "minor" argument about our views. I stated it wasn't until later in their lives we really went all out for birthdays and when they were young, not so much. She took that as a hit on her and how we handled the kids birthdays, which I think I convinced her, was not my intention. We just didn't do elaborate parties and such and we mostly involved family. Kelly's children, on the other hand, have a totally over the top major production for each and every one of the birthdays and I will give money on the fact they all remember each and every one of them! Were we wrong or is she wrong? Nope, we all do things our own way sometimes, but I know it has always been done in the kids interest, which matters most.

But back to my little Snuss and his birthdays. He loved going up to Big Bear and play in the snow with as many people who wanted to join in on the party. We must have done this 5 or 10 times over the years and they all went great except one. In our pain and anguish over Bryan's death, we tried to keep the memory of those wonderful times alive and decided to go to Big Bear to spread his ashes in the mountains he loved. While it was a noble thought, we were not ready for this just yet. We had gotten two cabins from family friends at a great price and we all set out on our trip. As we approached Big Bear, the weather started to turn and so did some of our moods. We found out the cabins were at two different ends of the mountain and in the pending weather, it would be difficult to travel between the two. In addition, when we walked to the mountain side it was very slippery and it was starting to drizzle with a light snow falling. This made the ash spreading hard to do and Kelly had put together some music and thoughts she wanted to share with all that came. She shared beautifully and I choose to think all of us there that day were moved by what she had to say and how she said it. One moment of humor did arise and I apologize in advance for this might offend some, but as I was throwing Bryan's earthly remains into the wind, I neglected to judge just how strong it was blowing and which direction it was coming from, and promptly covered Victoria in his ashes. I was panic stricken at first, but she was gracious and let me off the hook with a slight laugh at what I had done. Once everyone left from there and went to separate cabins, we did in fact have a good time and learned some great new games, one of which is Farkle, and someday I'll tell you about it! I want to say as I'm writing this, more of the good times we had up there that weekend come to memory, such as the great meal cooked by Beckey and Pete, watching the kids play in the snow and even the scary rides in and out of our cabin, I suddenly realize we did in fact have a good time and we did all get together and celebrate Bryan's birthday in a grand fashion that would have made him proud!

I'm going to end today's blog with this: All of our day's have been numbered by our wonderful Lord and all of us need to start living our lives so we don't waste the very short, precious time we have here among our loved ones and friends. So take advantage of it and let them all know how much they mean to you, but even more importantly, how much they mean to our God. Don't let a moment go or be wasted which can be used to edify and lift one another up as we all live in this same fallen world and are all sinners who need the forgiveness that He along freely gives......

In the beginning....

2010-02-01T17:10:00.000-08:00

In order to tell you the stories that I have in my memory bank about Bryan, I have decided it's best to start at the beginning so that's exactly what I shall do. I don't remember the exact details as to when we found out we we're going to have another baby, but I do remember we already had a very small baby and the doctor wanted to know if I understood the term, "Wait awhile". I assured him I did and that I had, but alas, we were on our way for another trip down maternity road.Kelly was only 10 months and a few days old when she was joined in the Klungreseter household by her younger brother, Bryan David. She didn't get to meet her brother for over a week however because he was born with jaundice and was very sick. Victoria's body didn't get enough time to recover from Kelly's birth and the shock of being pregnant again was to much for her to overcome and poor little Bryan paid the price.She was not even allowed to hold her new baby boy and was sent home empty handed. I was going to school full time and working two jobs, so I couldn't take her to visit and she couldn't drive herself so she sat at home crying and missing her new baby boy. When we finally got the okay to bring him home, we were all overjoyed and excited to have him at home with us. Then the very first day he came home to us, Kelly was playing with her baby doll and bent over to pick it up and cracked her head on the coffee table. Back to the hospital we went for eight stitches in our little ones forehead. She still has that scar today and it would prove to be one of many trips for stitches that would mark her life. Once he settled in he was a quiet little guy. who was a Mommy's boy through and through and when upset, she was who he wanted. I decided to start here so everyone can see that Bryan wasn't always that big giant of a man he became and that for his mom and dad, he will always be our little baby boy who we always felt it was our job to protect. The thing is however, that as much as we want to make sure our children are protected and that nothing bad ever happens to them we can't do that. God is who gives our children their protection and his is the only protection that is everlasting and complete. I know that the hardest part of dealing with my sons death has been the letting go and knowing that he is in heaven with Jesus and is waiting for the time we will all be together again. Our God is a great God and it is he who gives us comfort from the grief that has a tendency to overwhelm us at times. That's it for this time so stay tuned and come on back for some of the really great times in the life of Bryan David Klungreseter....

Sister's Last Blog

2010-01-30T15:40:00.001-08:00

Bryan David Klungreseter

Kelly Lee Klungreseter Fitzpatrick

I am in the process of putting this blog in book form for my parents. And even though I dislike posting photos of myself, I am doing it for my mom. I know she will like having a spot with both of her children side by side. It is one of my great laments, that Bryan and I did not have more photographs taken together. This is the best I could do Momma. I am no good at photoshopping and fixing--otherwise I would have made it look like we were really together here. Wait! We were together in the picture of Bryan. It was a whole family photo! We just aren't standing together! So pretend we are hugging. And enjoy the obvious fact that we both got Grandma Birthday's cheekballs! Dad has them too!

"Good-bye." Not my favorite word. When my dear Grandma Birthday died years ago and I spoke at her funeral, I remember saying, "It's not good-by Grandma, it's see you later!"

Here I am, signing off after a year of sharing my ups and downs, my laughter and tears. In what sometimes felt like naked transparency. In this place, I have shared what was going on inside a heart that grieved painfully after an unexpected loss. I miss my brother every single day. I weep even now as I think of the huge hole left in my life, my days, my heart with him gone.

I have tried to honestly share my questions and doubts and pains and fears. It has been here, in my cyber journal, that I discovered what I truly think. Ann Voskamp says it is a handicap, "needing to live all things twice, in breath and in word, before you can really understand your life" . But I just say that is how I am. And you have been here on the journey with me--to understand my life. Thanks for hanging on for the wild ride.

I could not offer a neat little paragraph summarizing all that I have learned in this year of mourning. I wish I could. I prayed many times that I would be able to see with my human eyes here and now what God was doing in my family, in my life, in my heart by taking Bryan Home so soon. I have wanted to have "something to say", to share with others who will walk this path one day. Might as well make this pain useful. Learn something. Share something valuable. But I can't.

Since I still don't know and may never know this side of Heaven, I will say this for the record: "I still believe. I don't know so many things but I know this: I need God more than I have ever needed Him before. So I chose to stand on what I do know and not what I don't. I have His promise that He knows the plan and it is ultimately good. And for His glory. He knows and I can trust Him. Even if I don't know what He is doing."

There. That is said. I don't want anyone reading one or two of my really vulnerable posts where I share my sorrow and sadness without adding the praise that follows quietly. Jesus has brought His peace to my heart, peace I can't understand or explain. But it is there. Even in the middle of the storm.

If you have been reading here with me and hurting too, you are suffering from unexpected loss--of a child, of a marriage, of a dream, of your innocence, or your purity, loss of a loved one, loss of a job, you just have a hurting heart. I want to end by suggesting two good books that can address sorrow and offer Hope in a much more succinct and articulate way than my stumbling, simple words ever could:

The Holy Bible-The Book of Psalms by God

Hope for Hurting Hearts by Greg Laurie

And I am offering a free copy of one book to any one out there who is wrestling with some of the questions and hurts that I have shared on this blog. Please just leave a comment with your email address and I will contact you to get your mailing address. I will send you either book totally free. These books ministered to my pain in very powerful and effective ways. Please let me share their Truth with you. There is Hope in the middle of your grief. It would be my pleasure to share it with you.

As for the future, look forward to my Daddy's new perspective for this blog. The baton has been passed, the new chapter begins soon! Stay tuned!

See you later!

Kelly Klungreseter Fitzpatrick,

Bryan's sister, David & Vickey's daughter, Bob's wife, Reilly, Kate, Samuel, Aidan, and Peter's momma, God's girl.

Counting my Blessings

2010-01-18T07:31:00.000-08:00

I started keeping track of my blessings with a renewed gratitude attitude inspired by Ann over at my favorite blog spot (see the button at the bottom of this blog). It was originally God's idea--to be thankful. To rejoice in all my circumstances. To bless the Lord, Oh my soul, with all that is within me. He gives and takes away. Bless His Holy Name.

But its a new year--a new decade. So I bought a pretty journal on December 31. I have started to write in it. I used to faithfully keep a journal. I have volumes from when I was a young girl, a young woman, a young married wife. But the day I gave birth to Reilly was my last entry. I have tried a few times to renew the (wonderfully therapeutic) habit but just haven't. I have begun anew.

As this chapter of my blogging days comes to a close, I feel so grateful to all of you who shared in my cyberspace "journal" for the last year. Just knowing that you were reading and commenting and chuckling over the entries made it more fun, endearing, purposeful, therapeutic.

I have tried to post this the last two Mondays and haven't. But I HAVE been journaling. Privately again. Instead of on the internet. I have been adding to my Multitude Monday pages. I have been counting my blessings. If you are reading this right now--you are among those many blessings. Thanks so much for sharing this journey with me to tell Bryan's stories, to remember him, to honor all that was noble and good and funny and excellent in his short life.

And if you want to know what the future holds for this blog--I will share my secret with you. I have been praying that my Daddy will pick up the (metaphoric) pen for the next chapter. To fill in the blanks with stories that I can not tell. Bryan was an avid huntsman, fisherman, sportsman. He was a beloved son. These are sides of him that I cannot describe. But my father can. His memory is stuffed full of first homerun moments, winning that long-awaited game at EHS his senior year, quail trips, deer hunting, Kern River, Padre World Series, the list is endless. I know you are reading this Daddy.

No pressure or anything Daddy! :)

A Friend Remembers

2010-01-13T10:42:00.000-08:00

My cousin let me know that one of Bryan's old high school buddies had contacted her and wanted to talk with our family abut my brother's death. She gave me his number and I was thinking of a quiet moment I could make to talk with him (I DO remember you Anthony-- and I will call!). But he beat me to the punch and left this comment on the first blog I wrote soon after Bryan died. I know that people don't usually read comments from old posts so I am posting it here. Anthony recently learned of my brother's death. His kind words about Bryan made me smile and weep this morning. Thanks for taking the time to remember Bryan here, Anthony. My family thanks you for your kind gesture. Others are still thinking about and remembering Bryan and his life. That is the entire reason for this blog:

Posted January 13, 2010

"I just found out about BK's passing. It's already been a year. My heart goes out to his family. He really was one of the best guys I ever met in my life. I remember during high school having just moved to Escondido there were'nt many minorities, everyone was a stranger nobody really spoke to me much, and I felt way out of place. Then this dude named Klungy with more spike hair then the law should allow comes up starts talking then later invites me to hang out. We became good friends from that point on.

Football,taco shops, teeing off in the yard at his parents old house in Esco. I bet I ate 50 avacados in that backyard!I always admired that he was the type of guy that could be trusted with anything. Except reliable transportation. That old beat up blue volkswagon rabbit he was driving at the time was a real piece of junk! Thinking about our times together brings a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. Your memory will be apart of me all the days of my life. How did it go? "My brotha! from anotha motha! of anotha color!" That's how I'll remember you Klungy. Rest in peace dear old friend."

Anthony "GoGo" Alexander

These Faces That I Love...

2010-01-10T20:35:00.000-08:00

What will you remember about your Uncle, precious Peter?

You always kept Uncle B grinning, you crazy kid! Aidan boy!

Sweet Sam-mandoo. I know you miss walking on Uncle B's back!

Kate the Skate always giggled when Uncle B was around.

You learned you art of storytelling from your Uncle. Pretty soon you will rival him!

Uncle B's little bug is growing up into a lovely young lady.

Bryan loved each one too. I am getting ready to publish/bind this year's blog for my parents. I wanted to end with these dear faces. Bryan loved our children. He was the best Uncle ever. I realize anew when I talk with others about their relationships how blessed I was to have a brother who was so involved in his nieces and nephews lives. Bryan's death left a huge hole in my children's lives. But they have been so much better at understanding or at least accepting their grief without bitterness and questions. Ah! To be so childlike and trusting! I pray I will be more like them this year.

I will always ache when "special" times come and go in their future, wishing Bryan were here with us. There were so many big events, celebrations, traditions, and all the simple moments in 2009 that he did not share with us. My heart ached for missing him. But I carried him with me in my heart. So I will end this year (a week late!) with the faces that he and I both love.

The Stockings were Hung by the Chimney with Care...

2010-01-10T20:14:00.001-08:00

My parents mantle with each of our stockings.

Wish you could see their footed pajamas. Too bad they don't carry them in my size!

Reilly, Kate Marie, Peter, Samuel, and Aidan on Christmas Eve

Peter/Joseph and blue-eyed baby Jesus in the beanbag/manger.

We spend Christmas Eve with my parents. My parents get us all new jammies. My dad makes his famous chicken tacos (this is a newer tradition--not a "since the beginning of time" tradition), the kids enjoy my parents Christmas choo-choo, we read the Christmas story found in Luke (this year the kids acted it out), we enjoy a candlelight church service and sing beloved carols. All these things work together to slow us down after the frenzied preparations and purchasing--I like focusing on the reason we celebrate. Bryan wasn't with us this year, for the second time in my life. I only shed a few tears. The wound is healing? Or maybe I am getting used to the fact that I will never be celebrating Jesus' birth with him on this earth. We sang the carol, "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" on Christmas Eve. Its lyrics served as a poignant reminder:

"Hail the Heaven born Prince of Peace!

Hail the Son of Righteousness!

Light and Life to all He brings

Risen with healing in His wings

Mild He lays His glory by

Born that man no more may die

Born to raise the son's of earth

Born to give them second birth"

How beautifully these words express my Hope. Knowing that Bryan trusted Jesus and is with the Prince of Peace gives me great peace. Thanks Karen for the reminder!

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

2010-01-10T20:06:00.000-08:00

Bryan bought my boys the Wii for their birthday a couple of years ago. It is their all-time favorite gift. Even over the trampoline Uncle B bought them the year before the Wii. In memory of how much the gift remains a part of our lives, this Christmas my parents gave the wii lovers in our family blue wii jammies--complete with a long pocket large enough to hold the wii remote when not in use.

2010

2010-01-01T18:52:00.000-08:00

Now I know what "Once in a blue moon" means!
Cheers! Toasting the New Decade

The Count Down Begins--Getting ready to bang those pots!

Ringing, I mean Banging, in the New Year!

Ever since Bryan & I were little, our family has always banged pots on New Year's Eve.

Please don't ask me why? I really have no idea? Until recently, I thought everyone else did too!

Even Peter joined in the fun! Seniors (my mom) and Minors equally enjoyed the night!

Silly String Wars at Midnight

Friends.
Family.
Food.
Fun.

All the ingredients for a delight-filled New Year's Eve. A celebration of the culmination of an entire year lived: the laughter and copious amounts of tears, the highs and lows, the good times and bad--all without Bryan. But not without Hope.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

I know, I know: out of context and written to another people in another time. But these words resonate in my hopeful heart tonight--written for me alone. So I am making them mine. Go ahead, call my theology into question--I don't care.

Bryan wrote a pithy poem for 2008--"2007 wasn't so fine, 2008 is gonna be great!" But that didn't turn out so well. I didn't ring in 2009 with smiles, pot banging, toasting and first kisses. In truth, I am not sorry to see it end. But this New Years Eve, my family and I united and purposed to choose joy and hope in the coming year. So instead of a perky cheer for 2010, I offer this prayer:

"When night comes, and retrospect shows that everything was patchwork and much that one had planned left undone, when so many things rouse shame and regret, then take all as is, lay it in God's hands, and offer it up to Him. In this way we will be able to rest in Him, actually to rest and to begin the new day like a new life."

St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross

Starting 2010 out right with:

Trout Spread.
Belly Dancing.
Senior Citizens.
Dramatic Charades.
Brian Campbell. Enough said.
Reflection Questions.
Emotionally stunted.
Toasting with Sparkling Cider and many Minors.
The Prayer of Dedication for 2010.
A Blue Moon.
Pot Banging.
Neighborhood-waking Shouts.
Fireworks.
Silly String Wars.
2010 is here.

It's a New Year! It starts with a new day--today! January 1, 2010! Hoping for a new song to sing in 2010! May the new year be filled with joy and peace for your family and mine!

Naughty or Nice?

2009-12-22T09:12:00.000-08:00

Me (Kelly), Santa, Bryan

Christmas in the '70's sometime

I remember when I discovered that there was no santa. Sorry if I spoiled it for you here. I know how disappointed you feel. I was 8 or 9 when my Christmas changed. My mom had asked me to find something for her. She innocently told me to look in the trunk of Daddy's car. I did. Christmas was never the same.

Our bowling balls, my pretty pink dress, and a plethora of other presents were stashed in that trunk. Mom and Dad hadn't let each other in on their hiding places. Oops! Bryan may have already "known" but he certainly did after I went racing back into the house.

In some ways, I think my parents were glad that they were done with that part of the Christmas revelries: hiding gifts, wrapping them late into the night on Christmas Eve, eating cookies nad carrots and drinking milk, keeping up appearances of santa, the whole thing. So after that Christmas, things changed.

I was on the hunt starting in December. Little tidbit: I DO NOT like surprises. I would search the house high and low until I found my gifts. It became harder and harder for my parents to keep our presents a surprise. Which is so sad since Bryan LOVED being surprised. He didn't peek. Sorry little brother. If I found HIS, I would tell. Meanie!

After my parents finally surrendered and stopped hiding our gifts, they began wrapping them as they bought each present and left them under the tree until Christmas morn. That year, I UNWRAPPED every single one of my gifts and re-wrapped them. I know. I know. SICK! Bryan refused to take part in my season-spoiling sickness. He finked on me! Serves me right! Naughty little girl!

The next year, my parents set boobie-traps and made threats. If any gift was so much as TOUCHED or tampered with, it would be given to needy children. I will not reveal here if I ever disobeyed my parents with my illness/sneakiness. My parents have had so much heartache this year. I think I will keep that to myself. The only other person who knows...was Bryan. So my secret is safe. Until the Reunion.

Garland

2009-12-22T08:54:00.000-08:00

Christmas in our first house

1979?

I told you my parents were young and didn't have much money when they had Bryan and me. This photo shows my thrifty and creative mom showing us how to string popcorn and cranberries to make garland for our Christmas Tree. An amazingly painstaking and boring task. Bryan did it with a smile! I keep feeling like I already posted about this? Maybe I should read my own blog occasionally :)

Look Alikes

2009-12-21T20:04:00.000-08:00

Aidan at approxiamately the same age.

Bryan at Grandma Birthday's Home

Christmas 1978?

I remember this rocking-chair, that TV, that funny santa in the background, the simple little nativity with all the barn animals gazing down at baby Jesus. As soon as I saw this photo on my mom's fridge this week, a flood of memories (complete with smells--how weird it that?) washed over me. I have a musty memory unless it is dusted off by a sight or sound or smell! The sweet thing about this photo is that is reminds me so much of my Aidan, our middle son. He smiles the same tooth-hidden grin. A bit mischievous. A little melancholy. It surprises me how much they look alike. I have never really noticed it before. I have observed that Wyatt, our cousin, looks some like Bryan as a child. But I had not seen Uncle B and Aidan as familiar.

There are several other great Christmas photos in the slide show at the top of the blog. Just press the PLAY arrow in the center of the box and enjoy that sunny, beloved, goofy, funny face of Bryan's. And Santa's.

The Uncle B Tree

2009-12-21T19:35:00.000-08:00

Made with Love by Meredith

December 2009

In honor of the One Year Anniversary of my brother's death, my best friend stopped by on Monday, December 14 and left this Uncle B tree. A labor of love loaded with thoughtfulness and sweet memories, each bag contained an ornament that represents one of the stories I have told here on this blogspot. She brought a tiny fir tree wrapped in burlap and lights. So far we have opened a football, a log cabin, a baseball glove, a fish, ice skates, a snowflake, an anchor, a "B", a Disneyland ornament, the list goes on. Each one symbolizing the many ways Bryan has touched our lives and left his mark in our hearts. It has been so fun for the kids to rush to open each package in the morning. Then we retell Bryan's story. And we laugh. It is good.

My best friend is helping me keep my word--to continue telling his stories. I am so touched. And so blessed. So are my parents: Meredith made a tree for them as well. We are so thankful for this tangible way to include Bryan in a new Christmas tradition: Remembering Bryan while we decorate the Uncle B Tree. Thanks Meredith. I love you.

2009-12-21T19:34:00.000-08:00

Christmas Chaos--so much fun!

1996? Aunt Barbara & Uncle John's Home

I like this picture because it captures Bryan's Christmas habits so well. After giving his gifts--he PLAYED with them! Here he is enjoying one of the toys he got my cousin's boys for Christmas. (Bryan is on the right with toy in hand!) Wyatt, Matthew and Marc don't seem too disappointed since there were other distractions available. Good thing!

I am looking forward to seeing these boys this weekend. They aren't little anymore--they are on their way to manhood. Bryan enjoyed hanging out with them and his other "nephews" Justin and Nik. One good thing--they won't have to fight him off/share their gifts with Uncle B this year! :)See you soon family.

Festival of Lights

2009-12-21T19:32:00.000-08:00

Wild Animal Park

Christmas 1998

Since we grew up in Escondido and lived there until the 2000's, we have lots of memories at the WAP. This was the last year we all went together. Bryan was in the middle of all the memories and fun. He loved the "snow" the park brought in. And the cocoa and treats. He was like a child with his laughter and the light in his eyes. I believe that is why Reilly enjoyed being near Uncle B so much. They looked at the wonder of the world with childlike eyes. Corny but true.

One More

2009-12-19T17:59:00.000-08:00

YIPPEE! I found Aidan's! Now I just need Reilly's!

I am so glad to have this one--to remember there WAS a time when Aidan was a bundle of joy :)

For Me--Kelly--Unbelievable love & strength in family. My sister.

Blogger sometimes does weird stuff to my posts. Not complaining--just explaining. I put this in yesterday's post and somehow it was lost in cyberspace. So here it is again today--the card Bryan made for me Christmas 2001. If I ever find the "safe" place I tucked away Aidan's and Reilly's, I will add them here. To complete the set. I can't "add" it to yesterday's post without making it the first entry and looking like I am tooting my own horn, so here it is--separate so that I don't have to retype and reload the entire post from yesterday. Thanks for understanding. When it is bound in a book for my momma and my kids--it won't even matter. It'll be quirky like me.

PS I found an "O Holy Night" that knocked my socks off AND included the last refrain which is so lovely. Hold on! It is not for the faint of heart. It is playing now. Sitting in the candle light, looking at my beautiful creche, listening to Josh Groban sing about that holy night. Oh man. Enjoy. And Bryan is there. Singing with the angels. In that deep and fine baritone voice. Smiling. O Night Divine!

Bryan's Gift

2009-12-18T12:39:00.000-08:00

The top of the tree says" Believe in Him and all things are possible."

December 25, 2001

Bryan's Gift to the Family

In his own handwriting, on fine paper he selected, Bryan hand stamped and inscribed each card.

For Samuel-Sweet, happy, content, my boy!

For Bob-Courageous & Brave, my brother, always

For Kate-Kind-hearted, high-spirited, my girl

Each card came with a cross enclosed.

This is a hard post. But a good one. Bittersweet.

I have these cards, handstamped and lovingly created by my brother, for each member of my family. For some reason, I can't find Reilly's (she probably took hers years ago since she is a keepsake girl like her mom) and Aidan's (I KNOW I saw it somewhere "safe" in the last few weeks!). Peter doesn't have one. He wouldn't be born for another four years. Sweet Peter, he will never really know his Uncle B.

Everyone Bryan planned on seeing at the extended Christmas Celebration got a card and a cross. I am so very thankful for this gift, Bryan's gift. From his own pen, in his own words, in his special way, Bryan told each of us how much he loved us and why. He was imaginative, thoughtful, artistic, creative--of all the gifts he ever gave (and remember, I told you he was the BEST gift -giver!)--this is my favorite. I love words and homemade gifts and special, thoughtful touches. Yet in all my life, I have never made anything so lovely and honoring. My brother did. He was an amazing man. Have I said that before? Then let me say it again this morning with tears streaming down my face, with pride bursting in my heart, with memories racing through my mind, Bryan was one of the best, kindest, truest friends I have ever had. I miss him today.

Bless Your Heart

2009-12-16T14:40:00.000-08:00

No matter how big I make the font--THANK YOU--can never adequately express my sincere gratitude to all of you who have sent kind, sympathetic words and prayers our way on Monday. For pretty poinsettias, fresh baked pie, cookies, hugs, shared tears, verses of comfort and the Uncle B tree--thanks! My family has felt your love and support carrying us through this next part of the healing process. The first year down. All the rest to go. For sharing in our pain, for praying through our suffering, for remembering my brother...thank all of you who have stood with us this year and especially this week.

Bless your hearts, every one of you! Who said that finding the appropriate response to all this grief stuff was hard? Oh! I did? Well, you few have learned the secret. Probably as you suffered once yourself and have been comforted. Isn't that just how our God works? Thank you, thank you, thank you! May He richly reward you for your love and compassion to my family this week.

My Daddy said, in one of the comments here, that it is hard to understand why people stay away from us like we are sick, like our grief is contagious cooties to be avoided. I understand that. I have been there before. Timid and afraid to offend. Unsure of what to say. Helpless to DO anything to help. But I have learned that what our family suffers from this week is not punitive or contagious. It is curative. John Piper adds:

"The pain He causes is like the surgeon's knife, not like the executioner's whip. Suffering is not dispensed willy-nilly among the people of God. It is apportioned to us as individually designed, expert therapy by the loving hand of our great Physician. And its aim is that our faith might be refined, our holiness might be enlarged, our soul might be saved, and our God might be glorified."

So today, instead of hiding our grief, suffering, and pain away in secret, ashamed at how it crushes. I REJOICE that the Great Physician is working in my heart. And in my Daddy's. He is refining my Momma's faith. I am witnessing it all--firsthand this year. I will take John Piper's (and God's : ) advice:

"Keep on rejoicing. When you are thrown in the cellars of suffering, keep on rejoicing. When you dive in the sea of affliction, keep on rejoicing. In fact, keep on rejoicing not in spite of the affliction but even because of it. This is not a little piece of advice about the power of positive thinking. This is an utterly radical, abnormal, supernatural way to respond to suffering. It is not in our power. It is not for the sake of our honor. It is the way spiritual aliens and exiles live on the earth for the glory of the great King. 'Count it all joy when you meet various trials,' is foolish advice, except for one thing—God."

We were so utterly, unbearably crushed that we despaired of life itself. Why, we felt that we had received the sentence of death; but that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. (2 Corinthians 1:8-9)

Relying on Christ alone, Kelly for us all

David, Vickey, Bob and the kids

One Year

2009-12-14T19:01:00.000-08:00

Beloved son. Only brother. Favorite uncle. Faithful friend. Nephew, cousin, co-worker, neighbor, boss, roommate, ex-boyfriend. Bryan was a lot of things to a lot of people. Those labels can never capture WHO he was. Not completely. Each season of his life, each role he played, each hat he wore were only small pieces of who Bryan David Klungreseter TRULY was. My Momma's tender hearted little boy. The only son who would carry on my Daddy's name. My only sibling, the one who knew all about me and loved me anyway. My children's most bestest Uncle B. Bryan David Klungreseter died this night last year. His heart stopped beating and he breathed his last on December 14, 2008.

I don't like the words associated with death. "One Year Anniversary" of his death? Anniversary is a happy word--I think of celebrations and nice greeting cards. Anniversary isn't right. "Passed away"? Where is "away"? I don't get that. I "lost" my brother a year ago? I didn't lose him, I know where Bryan is. All the words I try to wrap around this year are incomplete. Just like obituaries and sympathy cards and pithy statements about the meaning of pain and death. No wonder people have a hard time talking to those who are mourning and grieving. The vocabulary for this stuff is lame. But I can't offer any better substitutions today. Death just stinks.

I never used to read obituaries. I don't like to dwell on sad things. A self-protective mechanism, I guess. I don't like to get emotional in front of other people, to expose my heart. This year, I didn't have a choice. Sad things were a daily part of my day. Missing Bryan. I began reading the words that those who are aching for their loved ones wrote in the final words of an obituary. It was then that I realized that words can never cut it. Even though I love words. All kinds of words. Poetry, song lyrics, a well-spoken phrase, a good book, a poignant play/movie line, a verse of Scripture. But no matter how expressive, accurate or suitable the words, they do not contain the ability, the magical capacity, to completely tell the story or capture a moment or describe a person's impact on another's life.

Maybe that is why after years of giving His Words to His children through every means; prophecy, visions, dreams, angels and the Pentateuch, the Word of God became flesh and made His dwelling among us. A flesh and blood baby boy. His final Word--Emmanuel--God with Us. The three-dimensional, walking, talking Word that finally expressed ALL that God had been trying to show and tell us with His words. Jesus.

The things that tortured me the days following Bryan's death do not torment me today. I am not undone by the thought of him dying alone in his home. I know that he was not alone--He was there with him. I know that with every fiber of my being. Not because I am superspiritual or because Bryan confirmed this from the other side. God's Word promises this; Jesus promised to NEVER leave or forsake my brother. Or me. Or you, if you are His. Bryan did nothing to earn Heaven. No one can. It was a free gift that Bryan accepted in 2007. So the circumstances of his death or even the manner in which he lived his final weeks don't really matter, because God's Son did all that was needed to purchase a non-refundable ticket into Heaven, eternal life with His Father, for Bryan. For Me. For you? His grace alone saved my brother from everything that I fear when I think of death. Horrible death.

The Son of man came to seek and save that which was lost. My God is the God who saves. He does not leave us alone to struggle and despair in this hard world alone, without Hope. Without Peace. That is why Jesus was born in a filthy barn into a messed up world on that quiet night long ago. We need Him more than He needs us; our good deeds, our righteousness, our every effort to earn salvation--none of it matters--only Jesus matters. God with us. The God who saves. He relentlessly pursued my brother with His love, He never gave up on him. In the end, He carried my brother to the other side, to his real home, where Bryan is feasting at the Table with the King. Not because Bryan deserved it, who does? The Savior did all the work. When Bryan was weak and broken and lame, his gentle Savior carried him home and seated him at the table of the Lord. Bryan is feasting as I type. 2 Samuel 9

Many times in the last months I have rejoiced for my brother because he is with Jesus. Tonight I envy him. I can't even imagine, and I have a wild imagination, what Bryan is experiencing this VERY moment. I miss you brother. I do not wish you were here with me. I wish I were there with you.

Until you carry me home Jesus, I will run my race, looking toward the finish line, waiting eagerly for the prize--You! Forever and for eternity. With You. You carried Bryan. Trusting You to carry each one of us Home. To You. Forever and for eternity.

This is what faith is, the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things unseen. You have given me this faith, Lord. Faith in You and Your Promise. I believe and I won't stop believing. Not even this year could take that from me. Thank You for Faith. For Hope. For Love. For Peace. For Truth. For Your Presence. "Thank You"--two more words that just don't cut it.

Bryan David Klungreseter

With Us: February 5, 1972

With God: December 14, 2008

Playing right now on the Playlist:

Leeland "Carried to the Table"

Wounded and forsaken

I was shattered by the fall

Broken and forgotten

Feeling lost and all alone

Summoned by the King

Into the Master’s courts

Lifted by the Savior

And cradled in His arms

I was carried to the table

Seated where I don’t belong

Carried to the table

Swept away by His love

And I don’t see my brokenness anymore

When I’m seated at the table of the Lord

I’m carried to the table

The table of the Lord

Fighting thoughts of fear

And wondering why He called my name

Am I good enough to share this cup

This world has left me lame

Even in my weakness

The Savior called my name

In His Holy presence

I’m healed and unashamed

You carried me, my God

You carried me

Jesu Navn

2009-12-09T09:23:00.000-08:00

Jesu Navn

Norwegian Table Prayer

I Jesu navn gar vi til bordsa spise,

drikke pa ditt ord.Deg,

Gud til aere, oss til gavn,

Sa far vi mat i Jesu navn.

Amen.

In Jesus’ name to the table we go

To eat and drink according to His word.

To God the honor, to us the gain,

So we have food in Jesus' name.

Amen.

We are studying the Vikings in our homeschool this year. I overheard Aidan telling Peter that we are related to Erik the Red. According to my son's understanding of our family ancestry, Erik was our great, great, great, GREAT granddad. Or at least Aidan said he was. I almost believe it. Even though I don't have red hair, I certainly have a fiery temper. I can't be sure that our family blood can be traced that far. However I do know it certainly goes back to my grandpa, Anders Klungreseter. He arrived by boat in America during the Norwegian resistance to the German Occupation of Norway. He stayed and married a Norwegian-American bride, Bertha Pauline.

When I was a little girl, I remember my grandma Birthday (Bertha!) saying the Norwegian Prayer at her table. My great grandma Lolly (Hjordis, Bertha's Norwegian mother. confused yet?) also used to say it to her grandkids and great grandchildren (Bryan and I). So I taught it to my children this year. Or least I tried to. Even though I listened to stranger old ladies say it OVER and OVER on my computer, Norwegian is a difficult language to mimic. Shheeesh. I am not sure any of my relatives from Norway would be able to decipher what we are saying. But since my Daddy has a plaque with the Table Prayer over his dining room table, just like his mom did, I am determined to bless him this year.

Bryan was proud of his Norwegian heritage. He often joked about getting a Viking Norseman on his bicep. He never did. It may seem a paradox--a fiercely patriotic American who loved his Norwegian blood. I don't think it is such a puzzle after all. His ashes have found their home in a hand-hewn miniature Viking long ship. On a mantle in California.

This Christmas as we remember our dear Savior's birth, we will include the Norwegian Jesu Navn prayer around our very long table. Surrounded by my family and my husband's family, (who, for the record, don't have any Norwegian blood in their veins). Like Bryan was, I am so proud of who I am. And I want our children to prize their legacy as well. Jesus is the Savior of the WORLD not just America :) so Jesu Navn or the Lord's Prayer or whatever blessing you say around your table this Christmas--it's just good to be one of His kids. One big family--co-heirs with Christ! Amazing Grace! Thanks Heavenly Father! My Daddy--don't fret, I promise I won't serve lutefisk to honor our traditions :). But here is something to make you chuckle, since it IS Christmas:

http://www.hymnsandcarolsofchristmas.com/Hymns_and_Carols/o_lutefisk_o_lutefisk.htm

Monday Again.

2009-12-07T09:12:00.000-08:00

I love the rain. It a wonderful excuse to stay in our jammies and snuggle all day, reading. Just add fire and cocoa! Since we have our box down of Christmas books, we could easily stay in today. But we aren't. Yet I am determined to get my Multitude Monday Thanks posted on MONDAY. So here are some:

rainy days
art classes with friends. learning a new technique and studying a old artist
watercolors and little hands
little boy dressing himself. wearing his undies backwards so HE can enjoy the elmo on his frontside!
the smell of our Noble Fir tree twinkling in the corner
browsing the Christmas albums. seeing how the faces have changed and families have grown since their first Christmas photo was mailed.
checking the mail. i LOVE getting Christmas wishes, letters, cards, and photos from our family and friends. have you mailed YOURS yet? hint hint
children who sing while they tidy. so cheerful! so rare.
Aidan's artistic decoration ideas--the places that boy puts wreaths and bulbs!
nativity scenes surrounding our home--we don't have as many as grandma but we are racing to catch up!
morning "touchbase" call with my mom. planning our day together.
having friends over for tea and treats
cuddling with oldest while she nurses her sniffles. fighting over the same homeschooling magazines!
little "David" shouting. "I will fight you in the Name of the Lord!" as weilds his sling and stones--INSIDE! Peter's absolute FAVORITE story is David and Goliath. he loves to boss his older brothers around, directing them in his version of the tale
chinese takeout brought home unexpectedly by thoughtful hubby. no prep, no dishes, no clean-up. what a treat! and egg rolls with spicy mustard are yummy!
kleenex with lotion added--amazing! where were they when i had the sniffles as a child? seriously. blow it out loud. blow it out proud. into a soft tissue with lotion added.
Truth spoken with love and tenderness. thanks Margi. and for the pumpkin seeds. you knew i was missing them.
baby (or adopted child) showers
re-reading our year's past Christmas letters. voting on which one is the best. maybe this year's?
racing off to get the day started after stolen moments on the computer! bye!

In Which Peter Learns That Christmas Will Never Be The Same

2009-12-06T14:48:00.000-08:00

We are decorating this weekend. Dragging down all the boxes. Putting up lights. Placing the JOY sign in the front yard. Listening to carols. Dusting off the Christmas books. Peter is so excited about every new thing. At three, this is really the first year that Peter is participating in our family traditions. It is all new to him. So far, he adores our sleepy drives to look at lights. He favorite movie has been **blush, cringe, sheepish grin** Home Alone (a movie my other four watched for the first time this year!). He asks for Ba Rum Ba Pum Pum song (read: Jars of Clay's Little Drummer Boy). He thinks eating his chocolate off his advent tree each night is cool. His siblings are so thrilled to be showing him the ropes and giving all the explanations. So sweet to see them bringing Peter into it all.

Peter started crying when we brought down the box of Christmas stuffed animals.

"Where is mine? Which one is for me?" His sad little cries broke my heart.

Uncle Bryan was in charge of the Christmas bears or moose or reindeers with the dates on them. Peter doesn't have one. Sweetly, Reilly tied Winnie the Pooh onto his back and said he could have hers. Peter's tears stopped. He is running around the house looking for his stocking. There is one with Peter's name in a box somewhere.

And there is one with Bryan's name at my parent's home.

My parents are not decorated yet. I feel a sense of sadness sweep over me when I think of Bryan's stocking there on their mantle. Our stocking holders are picture frames with each family member with a goofy face. We all made the "Parker Lips". Each one is classic and I love it that we have embraced our off-beat selves. No poised and painted photos for us. No sir.

Even before Bryan died, my mom and dad weren't in the mood for celebrating and decorating last Christmas. They did put a fresh Noble Fir tree up but it remained undecorated until January when we finally took it down. They had meant to put their ornaments on it but that dreadful door bell rang instead.

And our Christmas was changed forever.

I don't even remember if my mom put up our stockings over their fireplace. We did not go there for Christmas morning like we always did. We needed to do something different last year. My brother always slept over at their house and woke up with my parents. Last year, my parents slept under the tree at our home surrounded by their grandchildren. None of us could fathom the idea of waking up without Bryan there. I have NEVER spent a Christmas without my brother before last year.

This year, I am not sure how we are going to do Christmas. It feels like every single thing I do or think or smell or taste or hear reminds me of my brother and I weep. Is that normal after a year? I have no idea what "normal" is anymore. But last year I was blessedly anesthetized and numb. I did not dwell deeply on things, I just moved through each "thing" expected of me. I suspect my parents responded the same way. True confessions: this year seems WAY more painful.

I am learning with Peter that Christmas will never be the same. But I am choosing joy and waiting to enjoy the new pleasures in store. This season is about Jesus after all, not Bryan. I keep reminding myself of that. And I am certain that Bryan would not want us weeping throughout his favorite time of year. So I will honor my brother's memory this year by doing what he did best: enjoying the delights of Christmas. May you and your family delight in this season as well.

A Family Tree

2009-12-04T09:03:00.000-08:00

Bryan's Family Tree

(Click on Image to see Enlarged View)

The first family activity for our Advent was to make a family tree. The Jesse Tree book begins by focusing on Isaiah 11:1-2 "Then a shoot will spring forth from the stem of Jesse and a branch from his root will bear fruit. And the Spirit of the Lord will rest upon Him." Jesus' tree went far back and had some amazing people in it. So does Bryan's!

After I made one for our children, I made a Tree for my brother (and me too). I wish I knew my grandfather's parents names. It is when I stop to think back that far that I realize that I don't know enough about my family stems and branches. I don't want to make that mistake with my kids. I want them to know where all the juicy fruit came from, and the nuts too :).

My brother's paternal side is mostly Norwegian. His maternal side is American Mixed-breed :)...I don't know if any one ancestry tops out in the blood from that side. I think that makes my brother 50% Norwegian- 50% Unknown stock.

Chime in family if I misspelled or made a mistake or if you can tell me Bestemor and Bestefar's names.

#246-268

2009-12-04T08:14:00.000-08:00

Such a goob! I wrote these on MONDAY, where they belong (hence the cloudy day thanks!), but forgot to post them. Here are the latest entries in my thankful list--1,000 Gifts:

246. cloudy days
247. the cover of darkness while i exercise in the pre-dawn hour.
248. hand knit hat and scarf (thanks Aunt Barbara!)
249. Boy's Book Club--Daddy's reading aloud to sons and discussing fine books
250. Large pots of spaghetti shared with good friends
251. sleepy drives
252. twinkly lights adorning homes at Christmas
253. shortbread, cocoa, and singing Christmas carols
254. snowflakes--the child made, paper and scissor and glitter kind
255. lighting the first candle of advent, the beginning of our Christ-exalting, Christ-focus, Christ-celebrating season
256. taking down the box of Christmas books
257. watching my girls dance, Clara in the Nutcracker and her Frolicking Sister at the ball
258. listening to my girl play carols on the piano
259. clean room, made bed--a rare and happy treat
260. dusting off the Christmas movies, getting ready for the marathon
261. praying and praising in my husband's arms
262. 12 hours of sleep--uninterrupted
263. a soldier in a crisp uniform, standing tall and proud
264. brainstorming for the 17th Annual Christmas Letter
265. Meredith
266. choosing shirts and location for Christmas Family Photo--sheesh! that is a LOT of work
267. flannel jammies, cozy faux-fur lined slippers
268. pictures made with love to mom from sweet boy

Choosing joy today.

"A thankful heart is a happy heart." ~Madame Blueberry

Christmas Carols

2009-12-02T10:22:00.001-08:00

Bryan loved Christmas carols. This morning Reilly asked me which carol was my favorite. I couldn't pick just one. They are among my most beloved music--the old Christmas carols that tell His story. Christ-exalting lyrics, beautiful music. How can I pick just one? As I type she is pounding out Hark The Herald Angels Sing, attempting to learn the notes and make lovely music.

Bryan did have a favorite carol to listen to: Little Drummer Boy. I have included it on the playlist below. Jars of Clay sang his favorite version. Enjoy. I added a few other songs I know he liked (even Bing Crosby singing White Christmas!). His favorite song to sing was O Holy Night. I will miss hearing him sing it this year. Through the years our families gathered at my mother-in-love's home to sing carols around her piano. I love those memories. Bryan joined us once or twice and I can still picture him belting out that song. And eating German Rouladen until he was sick! Steak and bacon wrapped pickles will do it to you! Weird. There is no accounting for other people's tastes.

If you usually mute the playlist at the bottom while reading here, you might change your mind when you hear the delightful collection there. God has always "spoken" to my heart through music. I rejoice when I think of Bryan joining the angels in Heaven singing these songs to his Savior this Christmas.

Who knew that O Holy Night's last refrain included such moving lyrics:

Truly He taught us to love one another,

His law is love and His gospel is peace.

Chains he shall break, for the slave he is our brother.

And in his name, all oppression shall cease.

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,

With all our hearts we praise His holy name.

Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,

His power and glory ever more proclaim!

I included a more modern rendition of O Holy Night on the playlist. It won't be the same as listening to Bryan's beautiful baritone voice raised in song. And it does not include all the words to the carol. Such a shame! Let me know if you have a version that is more traditional which includes the refrain above. I'd like that.

As a side note, (it is described here in another post) my mom, dad, and I sang O Holy Night--for the first time singing the not-oft-sung verse above--together, weeping and silently praying for my brother on Sunday, December 14, 2008. I have no way of knowing until I get to Heaven if that is the moment the Good Shepherd was carrying His lost lamb home, but I like to believe that it was. It was a blessed moment that I will NEVER forget.

***a little funny PS***The children and I were sitting here listening to the music and three, count 'em THREE, said they simply do NOT care for Bing Crosby's voice. They don't like his version of White Christmas. Since I am recording stuff here that I will want to remember later, that seems like a pertinent fact to include. And funny. Sorry Uncle B. They are young yet.

White Christmas

2009-12-01T21:02:00.000-08:00

Our family has always lived in Southern California. It has never snowed here. I only dream of a white christmas. I am not certain why Bryan's favorite Christmas movie was Irving Berlin's musical White Christmas. I think it had to do with the whole tribute to a noble-military-general thing. Or maybe he really liked listening to Bing Crosby sing?

Forget Advent candles, Sunday School Christmas choir, acting out the story of Joseph and Mary dressed in our bathrobes, or reading the Nativity story nightly--not the Klungreseter family growing up! We went to the movies every Christmas Eve. We ate at Bamboo House for Chinese food. We counted each other's gifts under the tree to make sure they were equitable. And we watched every Christmas movie ever made. Bryan owns them ALL. I am not exaggerating. I can not remember a Christmas of of my youth when we did not watch It's A Wonderful Life, or A Charlie Brown's Christmas, or Rudolph the Rednose Reindeer on TV. Not one single year.

Bryan carried on our movie watching tradition as an adult. The kids just dusted off his collection in preparation for our annual movie watching fun. It is so handy to have the DVDs. No more wading through lame commercials. Bryan memorized the lines of most of his favorites. I am not exaggerating. I'm not. Ask my mom. She'll back me up. It was one of his more useful talents.

This year we will watch each one without his genius for editing out the "inappropriate" parts. We will watch them without his exuberant acting along with his favorite characters. He won't be there to make gingerbread houses or drink coco. He won't be there in the flesh. But Bryan's memory will be a part of every one of our holiday traditions this year. I miss my brother. I am so glad he left so much of himself for us to remember him by.

Gotta go light the advent candle and read the story and watch our kids act out the scene. Again. But we won't forget my childhood habits--we will watch White Christmas, just like I did as a kid. With my brother.

The Problem with Pain

2009-12-01T10:38:00.000-08:00

Grief is unpredictable. Raw. Quiet. Patient. I want to write some tidy text about what I have learned, what God has shown me, why Bryan's death has meaning and how I am no longer struggling to figure it all out as we approach the One Year Anniversary of his death. But I can't.

Today is December 1st. Opening day for Bryan's favorite season--Christmas.

This time last year, Bryan was wasting away alone in his apartment. He would not let us, my parents, my kids, me into his dungeon of despair. There were no trips to his elaborately decorated apartment, no coco and carols, no Christmas movies or gingerbread houses built together. Bryan died. I can't change the details of the final chapter of his story. I can't add meaning. I have no answers. I can't explain any of it. I can't fix it or make it all better. I still have no fathomable idea why Bryan had to die. I see no good in any of it. None.

I suspect that people all over the world have been and are still working on that problem of pain. For much longer than 351 days. Trying to make sense of their senseless circumstances. Choosing joy even in the midst of calamity and crisis. I am not alone in my grief and sorrow.

I read this quote again today: "God marks across some of our days: "Will Explain Later". And then "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance in the rain." This year God has been teaching me to dance.

Sometimes when I catch myself forgetting that Bryan is gone and I realize that I haven't thought about him all day--I feel like that's a betrayal. Somehow by "moving on" with my life, I am leaving him in my past where he resides only in my distant memory. I don't want to keep my brother in my heart, tucked away somewhere I only venture once a year. I want to travel to that place where my grief and my faith meet. And there is Peace.

Take me there Lord. As I journey in this place of grief, bring me into Your Peace, Lord.

My husband says I am like a pitbull, I bite down and don't let go. I am tenacious, resolute, unyielding when I want something. I want to know why my brother died. Yet in my stubborn insistence, I miss out on peace and grace. It is only when I simply stop struggling (sometimes by conscience choice, mostly out of sheer exhaustion) and contending that Peace takes the place of strife in my heart. I can't explain that either.

I never cross-examine God and ask Him why He blessed me with a man who is devoted to our family. I don't shake my fist at the Lord and demand an explanation for our five healthy children. You will never hear me insisting He demonstrate His motive when I sleep in my warm bed in my big house. I have never asked Jesus to account for His provision of freedom, friendship, and full belly. Why is it that I think an answer is owed to me when He allows stuff to happen that I don't understand?

I don't deserve His daily Grace, I never earned His favor, yet my God lavishly provides blessings upon blessings to me daily. I will never understand that either.

You would think that God would punish me for my little faith. Or perhaps my disbelief would bring separation and spurning. But my God isn't like that. He gently whispers in the pain, in the quiet, in the tears, in the rain, "I'm with you." The God who gives and takes away--He is close to me.

It's not my job to understand the "why" of the last 351 days. Somedays, I have been biting the wrong leg. My Lord has only asked me to trust Him, His goodness, His unfailing love for me. And for Bryan. I can't lean on my own understanding in all of this. I will never be able to understand all this yuck! Death stinks. There are no circumstances or final chapters that can change that sad fact.

I don't have any pat answers or deep philosophical conclusions to offer here. I only have His Hope today. As we begin our celebration of Jesus' birth, the Father's Most Precious Gift, I realize anew that my Savior is enough, more than enough for all that I truly need. May He be more than enough for you today too.

Psalm 34:18" The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Thanksgivings Past

2009-11-23T12:46:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving at our childhood home in Escondido

November 1997
Squeezed like sardines in the TV room
Enjoy the bleach blond Chad and Casey!

Thanksgiving 2002

My Our Parents Home

Bryan is in the back row-far right

Candid moment

Squishing us all in--again!

Regret: I always say I am going to take family photos even if many groan and object to piling on top of each other and forcing a smile. I did not insist in 2007 and now I don't have a picture. Word to the Wise: Snap those digital treasures this Thanksgiving! Make sure you capture the moments on camera as well as in your heart! Me being bossy again!

A couple of times a decade we try and get the extended family all together: 1992, 1997, 2002, 2007. This year, our cousin Jenn is hosting a feast which we won't be joining. My parents requested the holidays be different than in years past so that the pain of missing Bryan will not be as pronounced. I am not sure that is possible but we are attempting. It is an effort at self-preservation or sanity. I pray it helps. No matter what we do, this Thanksgiving will not be as difficult as last year. My brother was self-destructing and keeping everyone away. This year, he is giving thanks to the Father in person :) with no more pain, no more tears. I can be thankful for that.

My mom and I were talking and praying about how to make the holidays sweet without Bryan. He loved this season. It is hard to think of celebrating without his big grin and boyish thrill of pleasure in them. But Thanksgiving and Christmas aren't about Bryan. Mom and I decided that next year, we are going to start a new tradition in Bryan's honor. Maybe sponsoring the family of an incarcerated person? Bryan did that one Christmas. Or taking gifts to the battered Women & Children Shelter? That was a project of his another year. We are going to think about it this year and see if we can come up with a perfect "Bryan Tribute" to keep his love of this time of year alive and meaningful. And to keep the focus on the reason for this season--the Son of God who came to seek and save that which was lost. Lost hope, lost sheep, lost dreams, lost purity, lost moments, lost heart, lost joy, lost marriages, lost homes, Lost. He came to SAVE that which was lost. I am so thankful.

Blessing Tree

2009-11-23T12:12:00.000-08:00

Thanksgiving 2007

Bryan's Handprint "leaf"

-My Family

-Our Armed Forces fighting for our freedom!!

-Jesus

-Turkey Sandwiches!

It's Multitude Monday AND it's Thanksgiving vacation. We are so blessed, so thankful! My family is hanging out in our jammies, playing games, drinking cocoa (even though it is 80 degrees outside!) and looking at old photo albums. I love down time--with nothing going on but enjoying each other. We have so much to feel grateful for this year!

This Thursday, we will make a Thankful Tree for 2009. A family tradition where each of us traces our handprint and writes our blessings on a paper leaf and glues it on the paper trunk. Not too classy or craftsy but a treasured keepsake for me nevertheless! I may have been embarrassed to post our Tree in light of all the beautiful and artistic traditions that other families carry out. But I am not embarrassed, I am just so grateful that I have it. I was teary-eyed when the kids unfurled the last Thankful Tree we have with Uncle Bryan's large handprint and his handwritten blessings. I placed my hand over his and was glad for my family.

I spent almost every Thanksgiving with my brother in my 38 years. When he did not come last Thanksgiving, I knew that things were very wrong. Bryan LOVED the holidays and never missed them if it were humanly possible. A few while Bob and I were at Chico State and the Bay area, and last year. Bryan was always there.

My mom is here with me now and she wants to add her blessings to the Multitude Monday list that I have going. Here goes:

240. that God is faithful

241. that He hears and answers prayers

242. Bryan's hands and feet (she did watch them grow from teeny-tiny ones to great BIG size 12s. she felt his soft baby fingers wrap around hers. and then she had to let go as he grew to a man.)

243. being able to listen to music again

244. finding Peace and Hope

245. enjoying old pictures and videos

Time

2009-11-17T07:23:00.001-08:00

Bryan at Rehab feeding goats.

He endured tons of manual labor (feeding goats here) with a smile while he sobered up.

May 2007

I have no sense of time. I have spatial-temporal issues. I can't seem to find my place on the timeline. As I get older, and more life forms depend on me, I realize the blight that my time-challenges make on our lives. I don't wear a watch. I don't use a cell phone. I can never find my purse-sized calendar. Or my purse. I am hopeless.

That is my excuse for why this Multitude Monday posting is happening on Tuesday. I meant to write it last night but I lost track of time. And now it is Tuesday. But I press on, because the only honorable thing a person can do in the face of their weakness is to keep on. Even if I am a day late. Again.

I do all kinds of things to compensate for my time-challenges--sticky notes, leave voice mails for myself, star emails of importance, put time-tickers on my blog, pray, deny, cry. But it is a character weakness I have learned to live with. If you read this blog, you get to live with it too.

Bryan had a half dozen watches. He was timely. Even though he was a single guy, Bryan wasn't known for making the whole family wait for him. Periodically, he changed the plan at the last minute, but for the most part he could be counted on to be on time. For family photos, ballet recitals, Christmas present-opening, etc. I have experience with that other sort of person--you know, the one who doesn't own a watch and has no sense of time. You never know when, or IF, you are going to see that kind of person.

Time. It is so fleeting. My brother has been dead for 11 months. It seems like it was just yesterday that mom, dad, Bryan and I were eating at his favorite Hawaiian BBQ near his house. We had just picked him up from the hospital where he had been taken by ambulance after suffering a long and dreadful seizure. He had nearly bitten his tongue through. It looked awful. He looked awful. I remember thinking to myself, "why are we here? how can he be sipping soup? this is surreal. my brother could have died today." Bryan died 3 months later.

And instead of pressing in, and saying what needed to be said; "Bryan, you are in trouble again. You need help. What can I do to help you?" I ate my teriyaki chicken and made small talk. "he's exhausted. he's just been through the most dreadful thing in his life. where do I begin? he's going to think I am preaching at him. i don't know what to say."

Lost moments. That was the last time my brother and I had an opportunity to really talk. Even though he had been through an excruciating ordeal, even though his tongue was swollen and bruised, even though his heart was breaking but he didn't know how to articulate that, even though we were sitting in busy dive eating fried tempura, I should have seized the moment and said, "i love you too much to watch you self-destruct. the seizure was a HUGE warning light. you need help. you can't see it for yourself, you can't get it for yourself. i am here to help. and i am not going to leave you alone. no matter what. no matter what you say or don't say. i love you and i won't let go."

The holidays are hard for so many people. We forget that. Those of us who are busy, surrounded by people we love, with plenty, and full of good things in our hearts and days--we forget. And we don't make time to think of others who are living a much different reality. Maybe you have a loved one is pretending that they will get it together "later". Maybe you have a neighbor who is spending their first Christmas without his wife. Do you know of a family who is on the verge of losing their home this year? I have people in my life living these realities.

These are the moments to seize: the second to smile, press in, be nosy, insist on dropping off a meal, reach out for a hug even though it seems like you are invading their space, write a note telling her how much you are praying for her, getting on your knees and pleading to God for his life, holding your man and whispering how glad you are to be his, staying up late and listening to a teen prattle about something she finds interesting, reaching across the table in a busy restaurant, holding hands, looking into downcast eyes, and saying, "I love you too much to leave you to yourself. I am here. I am not going away."

Don't let any more moments slip away from you today. Tell the people you love that you won't stop, ever. Forgive the people who have hurt you and look for a way to repay their evil with kindness. Hug, smile, hold hands, write notes, intercede, pursue, reach out, open up, stick your neck out. Don't believe it when people say they just want to be alone. No one really wants to be alone in this fractured, hurting world. I am preaching to myself. I have been given an opportunity to learn from my mistake. I am sharing what I am learning with you. I won't let all this pain be wasted. Learn with me.

Now is the time. Today is the day. Right this minute. I realize I am not God, I can't "fix" people. No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn't save Bryan. Only He can. Only He could. I know that. But we can be the hands and feet and hugs for Jesus to a hurting world. This year, in honor, as a tribute to my brother and his huge bear hugs and bigger grins, I will spend my TIME looking for ways to love those the He has put in my path. Tomorrow isn't guaranteed to me. Or you.

224. praying out loud

225. forgiveness--sapping bitterness of its power

226. fires in the fireplace

227. cuddling around the fire with cozy jammies, pillows, blankets, and love

228. studying girl without any prompting

229. telling the truth even at great personal cost

230. true repentance from 8 yo

231. pleading for wisdom and receiving it

232. clean hair

233. meredith's tortilla soup

234. little hands "creating" even if it means stepping on tiny pieces and damaging soles of feet

235. sobriety, even for a few months

236. answered prayer

237. lost moments redeemed

238. lost souls saved

239. lost hope restored

"Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."

1 Thessalonians 5:18

Rejoice Always

2009-11-10T08:20:00.000-08:00

The reason I didn't post my Multitude Monday list is because our dear friends (we LOVE you guys, Deanne and Brian!) surprised us by taking us to a Todd Agnew and Building 429 concert last night! We were thrilled! But that meant no blog. So first you have to read my excuse (it was a good one) and then I will add to my list!

Ever since we heard Todd Agnew for the first time at Spirit West Coast 2004, Bob and I have been fans. Back then, Todd was barefoot, simple, and truly worshipful. Having an awesome fiddler and cellist with him on stage sealed the deal. He hasn't changed a bit--still barefoot and honest with moving worship. So even though I have heard Building 429's music before, I was mostly excited about seeing Todd in concert again. Another surprise was in store for me last night!

For my record here, Bldg 429 gets it name from Ephesians 4:29:
"Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths. But only what is helpful for BUILDING others up according to their needs, that is may benefit those who listen."

I was so pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed the concert of these four younger guys. They were encouraging! Their rendition of "O Happy Day!" was terrific. Too bad they didn't include it on their new album. I wasn't prepared for the wallop from their song, "Always". I have the song playing now on my playlist if you want to check it out. It isn't the same as listening to it with just piano accompaniment and a room full of other people--but it'll do. At least if you sob, no one will see you! Here are the lyrics that moved me:

"Always"

Building 429

Friend I don't know where you are
And I don't know where you've been
Maybe you're fighting for your life
Or just about to throw the towel in
But if you're crying out for mercy
If there's no hope left at all
If you've given everything you've got
And you're still about to fall

Well hold on, hold on, hold on
'Cuz I believe always always
Our Savior never fails
Even when all faith is gone
God knows our pain and
His promise will remain
Always
He will be with you always
He will be with you always

As I was listening to the lyrics, I was telling God in my heart, "I am holding on to You, God. I am!" And I sensed His reply (not in words--how could I hear it over the sound of those speakers!) was, "No, I am holding on to you!" God spoke to my heart last night. Has He been speaking to yours?

I sometimes wonder what He was saying to my brother in the last days or hours of his life. This time last year, Bryan was on the fast track to physical peril, and ultimately death. It was a scary thing to witness; athough he did not allow us much opportunity to see him. But I cling to the belief that Bryan was His, and He was with him. Even at the end.

Since the gal who inspired this newly formed habit of mine--to list what I am thankful for on Mondays, to count my blessings, to be mindful of His movement in my life--I have had no trouble adding to my list the easy stuff, the good stuff, the fun stuff, the yummy stuff. But I have yet to include the ugly stuff, the hard stuff, the painful stuff, the confusing stuff, the inexplicable stuff. If you read here, you remember that our family has been reading Pilgrim's Progress, an old tale written centuries ago but still so relevant, so true to the path He has me on this year. I said I couldn't wait to read what John Bunyan's solution was for Christian being entrapped in Despair's Dungeon.

Well, the answer, the key, the way out was to REJOICE! In ALL things, despite our temporal, this-side-of-heaven view of our circumstances. To thank Him and sing His praise. Even when we don't feel like it. And with that obedience, Christian remembered the key of Promise, which opens any door in Doubting Castle! And he was free. Since I want to be free, and I want to obey, I will add some ugly things to my list today:

191. missing brother

192. no pumpkin seeds

193. one less person who will STAND with me here in the battle

194. crying momma

195. crying daddy

196. aching heart

197. missing piece of long-practiced traditions

198. songs that make me sob

199. missing socks

200. quarreling siblings

201. failing again

202. missing the mark, again

203. crushed little heart by my less-than-gentle response

204. mounds of laundry

205. piles of dishes

206. lost history book

207. lost notes with important numbers

208. lost shoe

209. lost library book

210. lost mind

211. lost moments

212. lost family

213. lost friends

214. lost neighbors

215. missing bear hug

216. hungry children in faraway places

217. little girl paralyzed

218. friend losing home

219. husbands struggling to provide for their families

220. lonely, hurting, despairing people alone at Christmas time

221. family celebrating their first Christmas without their beloved Marilyn

222. one woman, the weight of the world--so many burdens for Suzie, all at one time

223. little boy who tries so hard but just can't

"Lord, bring beauty out of these ugly things, somehow. Give me eyes to see Your beauty in them. If not here and now, then someday when Your "I'll Explain Later" becomes NOW. "

Monday, Monday

2009-11-02T16:27:00.000-08:00

I like having something sweet to do every Monday. I am so glad for this new "tradition". Thinking on things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, excellent, and praiseworthy makes Mondays much more manageable! We had a jam-packed weekend of fun and fellowship and instead of being rested and ready for the start of another week, I was tuckered out. Then I spent some time on the front porch letting the kids jump rope and play while I made my thankful list.

161. a merry heart makes good medicine-proverbs 17:22

162. moving stories; He speaks to me in Words

163. Hope

164. the Holy Spirit--the Hound of Heaven who pursues relentlessly because of Love; He won't let me remain unchanged

165. the smile of success--when student conquers a challenge

166. maples with leaves on fire--Oh the colors of Autumn!

167. clean sheets

168. newlyweds, the bliss of witnessing life begin as One

169. heartfelt talks with friend who cares; no drive to fix or understand, just listens. even sequestered in the office. Thanks Deanne!

170. second-chances for forgetful tooth fairy; thanks for forgiving Aidan

171. reminder notes taped over tooth fairy's pillow

173. races to check the mail first

174. clean car--purely hypothetical here. it has been ages since i haven't referred to my vehicle as the "junk mobile"

175. front-yard baseball: 3 brothers-style. until one gets "out" by being beaned in the head with a whiffle ball. there HAS to be modified rules with only 3 players!

176. early morning scavenger hunts

177. cooperating siblings! jumping rope

178. brown-eyed baby in big brother's cowboy boots

179. peals and squeals of laughter, children enjoying each other

180. Fall Back--an extra hour to get ready for church!

181. gracious friends who open their homes to families with lots of mouths! thanks Limons, Smiths, Hubbs, and Campbells! can't wait to repay the favor

182. computer-savvy friend who volunteer to help me w/my first ebay purchase. thanks sue!

183. knobby knees poking through holey jeans

184. sipping tea on the porch in the shade during PE for the kids

185. baked goods--with PUMPKIN! i love pumpkin!

186. husband's hands in dishwater--sink full of dishes I DIDN'T clean

187. watching grown men conquer the wii, with an audience of teens!

188. homeschooled kids at "Presentation Night", making mommas proud and reassuring daddies that they really are learning something

189. the smell of fresh herbs in the garden

190. good old fashioned cry--cleans the soul

Our Pumpkin-less Patch

2009-10-31T14:32:00.000-07:00

Uncle B and his kids

Bate's Nut Farm

October 2002

Uncle B and Samuel

Bell Garden's 10/03

Notice the Bate's Pumpkin Shirts Uncle Bryan splurged for!

Aidan and his favorite Uncle

Bryan loved Halloween. Maybe it is because he was always a kid at heart and dressing up is fun. For a kid ANY age. You've seen the photos of him as a Viking on this blog. Not last year, but the one before, he went as a pitcher of red Kool-Aid. I can remember him as the 10 Million Dollar Man, a cowboy ghost (see my archives on 1/15/09 post for THAT wild story), GI Joe, the list is endless. When most teens had grown out of trick-or-treating, Bryan kept it up almost through high school. And every year as an adult. I knew why he did it as a teen; Bryan was one of those meanies who would take punky kids candy from them! He always carried a huge king-sized pillow case for his loot. Of course, he was just doing the grunt work for my dad. Daddy always said he need to "check" our candy (these were the years when psycho people were doing things like putting straight pins in candy bars!). He would sort the chocolate from the silly, low-class sugar stuff like Smarties, Dum Dums, and Pixie Stix. My dad was only interested in the chocolate. He "checked" it alright. Serves Bryan right--he snatched the loot to have it stolen from him :) Payback!

Bryan loved the old Charlie Brown movies. In fact, Halloween 2008 he bought my kids the entire Remastered Deluxe Editions--with the Valentine's, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Halloween stories. It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown is a movie my brother and I watched on TV for years as kids. With commercials. Remember Linus faithfully keeping watch all night for the Great Pumpkin. He believed. So did Bryan. In the fun of Halloween and dressing up and getting lots of free candy at least. I hope he didn't really believe in the Great Pumpkin?

He was tickled to buy it for the kids on DVD, without commercials. My kids are watching it as I type. Even though we don't "do" Halloween over here, we always get pumpkins. And before you boo me for being a kill-joy, I also plan a dress-up opportunity for my kids at Harvest time so they get to enjoy the costume thing that Uncle B so delighted in. This year it is a Medieval Feast. Last year it was an ancient Athens Olympics. So there is dressing up going on over here. Sheeeesh! Give me some credit. It's not bizarre pregnant housewife ghosts, but they still enjoy it (you really have to re-read my January post to get this!).

Ever since my kids joined the party, Bryan has taken us to the Pumpkin Patch to pick out the biggest, ugliest pumpkin money could buy. I have dozens of pictures but we've had technical difficulties this week around our house so I can't locate them (especially the most recent--where the whole family is on a tractor hayride and Uncle B is sneezing!). But let's just say that when the air turns crisp and the leaves begin to change colors, Bryan has always been here to welcome the start of the holidays with our annual Pumpkin Patch trip. Bate's Nut Farm was his first choice. He loved all the goodies and never got out of there without spending tons of money and contributing to the cavity quota over here. He was so much fun. Like a big 'ole grinning kid. Even rode the pumpkin train with the littles. I guess this is just one more day added to the list of First Without Him.

So this year, as much as I tried, I cried, I prayed, I willed myself to carry on his tradition, I even scheduled a trip to a new, unfamiliar, just-so-no-old-memories-would-overtake-me patch...I couldn't do it. So now you can legitimately boo me or feel sorry for my kids. They have no pumpkin--no big, fat, ugly pumpkin--on our front porch to remind them of Uncle B. Maybe next year?

39 Years and Counting

2009-10-27T14:16:00.000-07:00

Happy (Belated) Anniversary Mom and Daddy!

Since my parents have been married for 39 years and since they have renewed their vows countless times--I only feel slightly peeved with myself for posting these CONGRATS so belatedly!

Our parents were first married as teenagers in 1970. Then they had a second wedding in the 80's some time. Then on a ship somewhere in the early 90's. I think even a marriage retreat too. Then...Bryan and I gave them a 25th Anniversary Party where they renewed their commitment to each other--AGAIN! They are married for life, I guess, after all those promises and vows.

The above photos were of the Surprise 25th Anniversary Party on October 14, 1995. After we feasted and they made new/old promises to one another, Bryan raised his glass to our parents. His toast was witty, eloquent and fitting. I wish I had a copy of his words--but then again, he didn't have a copy of his words. He always spoke extemporaneously--smoothly and sincerely. Bryan was gifted like that. He blessed my parent with his heartfelt praise of their example to him--in their years of togetherness and love.

So today, I toast Mr. & Mrs. David and Victoria Klungreseter. Your union of 39 years has brought many good things--first among them, your beautiful son. Here's to you, Mom and Daddy!**CHEERS**

"Grow old with me, the best is yet to be." Robert Browning

Despair Defeater

2009-10-26T19:39:00.000-07:00

We are reading Pilgrim's Progress around here. We are at that dreary part where Christian and Hopeful are imprisoned in Despair's Dungeon. The sojourners made a wrong turn--and followed the road called Doubt. There is no light in Despair's dungeon. There is no mercy. The giant Despair relentlessly tortures Christian. His companion, Hopeful, tells him not to forget how God has led them in the past. How He has kept on the path toward their reward. Even though I have read this story many times, I can't remember how they escape in the book. I am waiting eagerly the climax--Christian's deliverance from Despair's clutches!

I can relate to Christian; I have followed doubt's path to despair. Where the grave seems easier than staying there in that lightless, awful place of despair. I have longed for death as a respite from the merciless torment of despair. Bryan felt that way, I know he did. And my heart is sad that I could not lead him to the sovereignty of God like Christian's friend Hopeful did for him. It consoles me to know that Bryan is whole and well and safe. No longer oppressed by despair or doubt. How can that NOT be good? I am still sad for me, my heartbroken parents, my kids. But I am not sad for Bryan. I grieve but I am learning to look at death as a teacher. There is a time for everything--even a time to die. And a time to number your finite moments and live those appointed days well--with joy. Not despair. I want to be like Christian's friend--Hopeful.

So here are my Monday blessings (a sure way to defeat Despair--counting your blessings):

136. the earth to live on (from Samuel)
137. God's forgiveness (from Kate)
138. kid's eat free on Mondays restaurants
139. capable plumbers
140. the Nutcracker (from Reilly)
141. our home (from Aidan)
142. spider man underwear (from Peter)
143. hot showers-so appreciated after NOT having water all day
144. school--growing instead of wasting away (Kate's contribution)
145. endless french fries at said restaurant
146. for grandma (from them all in unison)
147. game night (scoring the high on Hyperslide)
148. Jackie being born 45 years ago: her doting hubby who reminds us to celebrate that!
149. boy babysitter! so RAD! thanks Garrett
150. sleeping in
151. new sound proof family room--to facilitate # 150
152. friends who pitch in during a crisis--thanks Mer, Kellie, and Eno
153. pumpkins
154. brown-eyed boy in spiderman suit
155. cartooning class with Bigfoot (Aidan again)
156. little children chiming in with thanks
157. best friend's birthday--postponed celebration to look forward to (and DESSERT!)
158. flushing toilets
159. stillness
160. bedtime after a busy day

More later, there is a time for everything--a time to cuddle and say our nighttime thanks to Him. Goodnight.

Continuation

2009-10-19T17:55:00.000-07:00

Jodi (Aunt Kathy's daughter), Me, Mom, Aunt Kathy and Aunt Emmy

Jones Wedding

Cheryl and Chad

First Dance as Mr. & Mrs. Sisco

August 2009

Renewing their vows--Bryan's Parents

Vickey & David Klungreseter

October 1985

(An original wedding photo is hard to come by;

they married in between my dad's college classes by a judge at Westminster City Hall.

Mom wore her high school graduation dress. I will hunt for a photo.)

Bertha and Anders Klungreseter

July 15, 1943

Aunt Kathy, Dan's new father-in-law Mr. Jiles, Lauren, Dan,

Mom, Uncle Larry

Reception

Weddings, Anniversaries, and other Special Days in October

2009-10-19T16:14:00.000-07:00

Aunt Kathy (our Mom's youngest sister) and her oldest son Dan--Mother and Son Dance

Altlantis Casino, Reno, NV October 2009

The Jiles and Jones Families United

The Parker Family (or those related somehow to a Parker)

Chad and Cheryl's Wedding San Clemente August 2009

Some of Bryan's Favorites: Cousin Casey, Uncle Keith, Chad

Dana Point 2009

Cheryl and Chad exhange their vows at Lantern Park in Dana Point

August 8, 2009

Okay--sometimes I get frustrated trying to add things to this blog. Posting is a drag when you want to move around pictures or display a lot of images or an assortment of other vexing dilemmas. But for now, this is what I've got: pictures in non-chronological order and a computer that won't allow me to add anymore images. So I will have to make this a two-part post. Oh well.

October is a big month for anniversaries in my family. My parents were married October 9, 1970. ( **Oops!: I mixed up Grandma Bertha's death with her anniversary! Thanks Aunt Ingrid for the correction.) My grandparents (on my Daddy's side) were married July 15th 1943. And my Mom and I just returned from attending her nephew's, my cousin's, wedding. Dan and Lauren were united October 10, 2009. Because I am always a day late and a dollar short, I am adding my Mom's other nephew's wedding, my cousin Chad and Cheryl married on August 8, 2009. Not a member of the October Anniversary Club but important for our family history nevertheless. Enjoy the photos. The following post will be a continuation with more photos. Bryan would have celebrated each of these occassions with bells and whistles. He loved a good time. Weddings are always a joyful time--I love the hopefulness and excitement of watching two become one and begin their journey together.

Giving Thanks

2009-10-19T15:22:00.000-07:00

Give thanks to the Lord and pray to him.

Tell the nations what he has done.

Sing to him; sing praises to him.

Tell about all his miracles.~ 1 Chronicles 16:8-

Thanks again, new friend Ann for making me mindful of my joy--to be thankful and to praise the Giver of good gifts.

My Multitude Monday--More Gifts

I forgot to list last week's gifts--but since I attended two funerals in 24 hours, I think it is more important than ever to remember and give thanks for every detail of my life.

Here goes:

74. windy days

75. beautiful bride, beaming groom

76. long drive with Mom over miles and miles of nothing; makes the conversation seem more exciting. catching up, sharing hearts

77. clean hotel after not-so-clean hotel

78. bangs that cover up wrinkly foreheads--not frown lines! poor-woman's botox--bangs to frame the aging face

79. cartooning boys

80. parent's 39th anniversary...in sickness and in health, for better or for worse. death has not parted them--not even their own son's

81. watching little girls scurry and sweep and sway to Nutcracker Suite

82. witnessing little girl dreams come true

83. little boy standing beside Daddy at the Laker's game--such a treat for one son.

84. generous student at husband's school--he so willing to teach the teacher

85. soccer coach and daddy all-in-one: four tired, sweaty boys

86. Chipotle with friends--and long drives to solve the troubles of the world :)

87. the sound of wind whipping through the poplar trees on our street

88. safe in his arms again

89. lost pillow, found pillow

90. psalm 34:18 "The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." good words when headed to funerals of fragmented people

91. white doves flying in the sky, headed home. reminds us that our loved one is finally home

92. tearful and heartbreaking eulogies--a life remembered, a treasured life

93. the resilience of children

94. funny little boys who make others laugh even when the circumstances are so tragic

95. hugging dear friends

96. photographs--no longer just images seared on our memories, on our hearts--but there to smile over and cry over

97. a packed church--standing room only: evidence of how many lives just one can touch

98. a well-lived life, a grace-filled death

99. a really good cry, cleansing for the soul, healing for the heart, puffing for the eyes

100. best friend that cares: "i'm worried about you. i prayed for you."

101. good counsel, wise counsel, Biblical counsel

102. a funny production of Shakespeare--well done by teenagers; an ancient story that still makes us giggle

103. little girl giggles--the sound of it makes me giggle and grin. contagious

104. husband who knows not to talk, just to hold

105. sitting on Daddy's lap--me! does a girl ever get to big to sit on her daddy's lap

106. the sound of husband walking through the front door

107. getting his first kiss--children must wait!

108. gentle hands in the morning, laid on me in prayer

109. warm baby snuggled close--falling back to sleep for an extra half-hour

110. no more diapers

111. watching little girl nimble fingers crochet--even if scarves are misshapen and funny

112. boys on trampolines--oh the joy!

113. passionate science teacher--thanks Eno.

114. seeing children engaged and active in their learning: eyes bright, hands busy, minds racing

115. science experiments that i don't have to perform! love co-op!

116. house full of friends and children

117. object lessons--solid wood, dry-rotted wood--which will i build with?

118. baby slings--oh to see little ones snuggles close to a mama's bosom

119. adoption--heavenly and earthly: so glad to be a co-heir, can't wait to meet you Rylie.

120. growing families

121. memorizing His Word with my kids

122. quiet, stillness

123. hubby who stumbles in to check on children, half asleep but brave: to make sure his wife sleeps sound knowing "what was that?" was NOT one of his babies falling out of bunkbeds

124. gardens growing

125. friends who share what they grow

126. pick-up game of baseball in the front yard; little boys in the playoffs?

127. happy homerun-hitters

128. good books

129. second-chances, fresh starts, new beginnings, clean slates, brand new days

130. "shout to the Lord, all the earth let us sing" "i sing for joy at the work of His hands, forever I'll love You, forever I'll stand" watching clara soar! tears in my eyes, gooseflesh and big grins

131. a day of rest

132. homecomings--so thankful you are safely Home Marilyn and Shelley

133. sweet friends who pursue you, even when they know you are hiding. thanks Kellie!

134. precious family returning to America with glorious stories of their time in China,; can't wait to hear them all; thankful for those with hearts for orphans

135. little hands returning from the mailbox and ripping open"their" mail

Someone wise once said that the shortest, surest way to happiness is to make a rule for yourself to thank and praise God for everything that happens to you. I am on my way. My list is growing. My heart is grateful.

Hymns

2009-10-12T15:26:00.000-07:00

I am not entirely satisfied with my music playlist. I love old hymns--so did my brother. Not to listen to in his truck or buy on a cd, but when he joined us at church. Bryan had a deep baritone voice that sounded so lovely extended in worship. It brought me to tears many times. Especially at Christmas. I will not hear that voice I loved so dear again this side of Heaven. But I assuage myself by listening to hymns.

I am not sure if I ever sang along with these specific ones with him, but they are two of my favorites. He was funny--so thoroughly modern and metropolitan yet Bryan preferred tradition at church, old songs and simple programs. No bells and whistles for him. At the end of his life, he spent a stint in a Christ-based rehab. One of the few things he could say positive things about at the worshipping with all the other men.

Right now, it makes me smile to think of him using his beautiful voice to worship the Lamb of God perfectly in Heaven. Another thing he liked about the place we sent him was the Proverbs Pit. Bryan read a Proverb every morning and then he would scribble his sin or weaknesses or the lies he had been listening to on a scrap of paper to be burned in that pit. He didn't like that place I picked out for him. He vented and complained and left the first chance he had. But while he was there, his eyes were clear and his mind was focused and I saw my brother read God's Word and heard him pray and listened to him sing.

So even though Bryan is just another statistic, one of the many who fall off the wagon and return to their addictions, I am grateful for those few months when alcohol wasn't doing his thinking or speaking for him. I heard my brother's true, beautiful voice. I am so thankful for the gift of those weeks follwoing his departure from rehab when he lived with my parents and came over every morning to serve and love on me and my kids. Bryan sang worship songs, and read the Bible and prayed. He shared with me what kind of man he wanted to become. Bryan shared his heart with me. Oh, if I could turn back time and just SIT and listen, instead of scurrying around trying to accomplish whatever thing I thought was more important than those still moments with my brother. Even so, those mornings are the dearest and most precious memories I possess. They are prized treasures.

If I could, I would have posted Fernando Ortega's version of How Deep the Father's Love for Us and Newsboys' In Christ Alone. But these will do. The lyrics to hymns are what makes them special--they surpass the simple repetitive choruses that stick in your mind. Listen to them. Their words are meaty and true and they stick to your bones, to your soul. Enjoy! I will, as I picture my brother belting them out in spirit and in truth before the Prince of Peace. In perfect peace. In that deep baritone voice I miss so much.

Postscript: As I was writing this, my dear and precious friend began her journey of grief. Her beloved sister was welcomed "safely home" in Jesus' arms at 2:30 this afternoon. Marilyn and Bryan may be singing together! If you are reading this and are a pray-er, please lift this sweet family up--Marilyn left a large and loving family behind--and four small children.

Multitude Monday

2009-10-05T17:02:00.000-07:00

Today IS Monday. Last week when I was inspired to start this Monday habit, it was Tuesday. I have always been a day late and a dollar short. Since then, I have been savoring the sweet taste of blessings this week. In keeping with my new "thing" to share the gifts and treasure the moments on Multitude Mondays, I am keeping my list running. My heart has been filled with gratitude and thankfulness. Thanks Ann for this day-delighting idea. May I share some of my gifts--on my way to 1,000--with you today? Offered in random order.

39. a mother-in-love, especially the kind who offers to make birthdays brighter by bringing the cool crowd-pleasing cake!

40. little boy birthday party

41. forgiveness, even when I don't deserve it

42. new toys/birthday gifts to entertain even the grown-ups

43. old wedding photos

44. preserved wedding dresses

45. many hands helping, scurrying, pitching in to ready the house to receive guests

46. good friends to celebrate with

47. watching birthday boy blow out THREE candles--delightful despite the spittle :)

48. gifted women in the Body of Christ

49. new teddy bear Mondays

50. repaired trampoline--proven boy-wearer-outer; worn-out boys listen better

51. hand-me-downs, even the kind with holes in the knees

52. massage by candlelight

53. yuck-bugs; something a boy must have invented or at least inspired

54. Missionary Mondays--a chance to intercede for those who GO!

55. watching my dear mom finger paint with youngest child

56. biblical counseling

57. having an artist in the family--so handy for birthday party decorating/game playing

58. siblings--now that I am an only child, I sense the glory of having a sibling to stand by in hard times

59. oldest child embroidering

60. middle child who listens and obeys right away with a happy heart

61. Juniper-less yard, at LAST!

62. dream coming true--little girl's fulfilling a life long hope, Clara in the Nutcracker

63. breaking free of old bad habits, oldest's long nails are a sight to behold

64. "fwee" year old's special way of saying words: Garth Dader and DanMa

65. friendship quilts--hand stitched squares

67. braided daughter hair--not much longer will I be needed for little hair styling

68. listening to oldest child playing the piano

69. "learning sounds" of five students in a home: humming, reading aloud, sounding out, asking questions, correcting siblings, chuckling

70. cold pizza for breakfast

71. new frying pan: unexpected gift from a good friend

72. attempting to explain puns and jokes to little ears

73. Best, Worst and Weirdest dinnner table talk: you have to be there to get it

Oh the joy of my life. Remembering what I have makes it easier to remember what I don't. I miss you, Brother.

1,000 Gifts

2009-09-29T15:42:00.000-07:00

It is not Monday. Aren't I a clever gal? My mom always says I am a day late and a dollar short! I wandered onto a lovely blog that the Lord has been ministering to me through the writer's simple, true, and lovely words. And music. And photos. The writer has a practice of giving thanks to the Giver for the gifts in her life. On Mondays, she and the rest of her "Gratitude Community" post their additions to an ongoing list of things they are thankful for. Even though I am a day late, I am hooked!

I know this blog is in my brother's memory, I know I am supposed to be telling his stories; remembering his life. That was my original vision. But I find myself spilling over with things to say about how his death has moved me. His death has made me more thankful. And so I stole this gal's great idea, or joined her bandwagon, or jumped on board--whatever you want to call it.

At the bottom of this site, you will find a link that articulates the mission behind her community. Read her words, hear her heart. Feel free to scroll down to my list of One Thousand Gifts--I started my list today. It was so easy because I am so blessed. I found it hard to stop once I got rolling! I caught myself thinking that I wanted to add THIS or THAT to my list. It made me smile. Thank you, stranger friend, for sharing with me a wonderful way to memorialize my grateful heart. And thanks be to God for His indescribable Gift.

http://www.aholyexperience.com/2006/11/gift-list-thousand-things.html

38. just called to see how you are" phone calls from my daddy
37. spending afternoons with my mom
36. having so many things to be thankful for! this is addicting!
35. reading my oldest's writing assignments--how did she learn that?
34. good friends and unexpected care packages--I LOVE MAIL! thanks didi :)
33. birthday party planning
32. kind neighbors-when we bought this home, we had no idea it came with such amazing amenities!
31. belting out "In Christ Alone" with my children this morning
30. planning weddings-just do it aunty!
29. spot-eyed puppies--Cooper is so cute!
28. sitting on the front porch and watching kids skate on the first cool day in weeks
27. big 'ole brown eyes and blonde hair
26. singing "Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep" with my 2 y/o at naptime
25. haircuts-it is always so nice when someone else blowdries your hair
24. cuddling on the couch and reading aloud from a yummy book
23. meeting kindred spirits in unexpected places--Ann here in cyberspace!
22. little girls who tell me that if i list 25 gifts a day, i will reach 1,000 in 40 days--so thankful to have a math mind reading over my shoulder
21. fresh baked bread for breakfast
20. a hint of Fall in the air
19. grieving with Hope--missing Bryan but knowing he is safe in Jesus' arms and FREE at last
passion
18. best friends-Meredith and secret stories
17. His Spirit, my source of comfort, counsel and power
16. Hope
15. food in our bellies and in our pantries--it is right to be grateful when there is so much hunger in the world
14. employment-so mundane but a gift nevertheless--maybe i should say Provision?
13. new mercies every morning
12. supportive parents who are daily a part of my life
11. precious Peter--a late addition
10.TWINS! Samuel and Aidan
9. middle child-Kate Marie
8. firstborn-Reilly Lee
7. my husband, additional proof that God gives good gifts to His kids
6. Undeserved Mercy, Unmerited Grace (did I say that already?)
5. Relentless Pursuit, Wooing my Faithless Heart
4. His Perfect Word
3. Being Chosen
2. Grace Alone
1. Christ

Gobbledygook

2009-09-27T20:47:00.000-07:00

Peter and his best Buddy(the one he was having this overheard conversation with!)

Bryan's death is not my first waking thought these mornings. Reliving that terrible moment when my Daddy woke me up at 4am to tell me my brother died--I don't panic anymore when the memory crashes over me like a huge wave. I have learned to cope with the cacophony of chaos that moment creates in my mind. It still unsettles me, disturbs me, makes me feel like I am living in the Twilight Zone. How can I get up, make breakfast, brush my teeth, read on the couch with my kids like all the other days of my life? And Bryan isn't a part of my life anymore. It is surreal.

I haven't forgotten my brother--his life's impact on mine, his death's impact on mine. The days immediately following his death were bittersweet. I felt like the veil had been lifted and I could see certain things more clearly: what my faith was made of, Who it is made of, how tender and precious my time with my children is, how much I need my Mom and Dad, how much I love my husband, how fleeting our lives are, how nothing is really guaranteed. So much in my life was more REAL in the days following December 14, 2008. A bittersweet gift during a tragic time.

I just reread all that gobbledygook. I am not making any sense. It has been 9 months and 13 days since my brother died. I had to look on the blog for the exact amount of time that has passed since he has. I don't know anymore, off the top of my head. But I haven't forgotten. I never will. Just because I don't think of him in my first waking moment. Just because I am not mentally tallying the days anymore. Just because I don't weep everyday with my Mom when she visits. Just because there are no new stories to tell, no new memories made, no more moments shared with one of my favorite people doesn't mean that I have forgotten. Or that time has healed all my wounds or that life has moved on or that I have accepted all this pain as what is best. I haven't. Pithy cliches and trite truths don't move me.

I am not sure what DOES move me. I sometimes feel numb and immovable. Inertia, a heaviness in my heart, a burdened, oppressive "thing" weighs on me. I think it is grief. It doesn't go away when I want it to, when I think it is "about time". It is just there, hanging out with all the mundane, sundry, necessary things in my life--laundry, grocery shopping, dentist appointments. Right there with the joy and the laughter that my days still hold--there are so many smiles with so many beautiful children. Mingled with the new trials and challenges I am facing in life--pruning and fire. Bryan is gone from this life of mine. Nothing will make that empty place go away. Nothing can fill it.

Then I am driving with Peter sitting behind me chattering away with his best buddy. I have to strain my ears to eavesdrop and hear his tiny, sweet two-year old voice. I am always so fascinated to listen or observe my children when they don't know I am:

"Do you know who Uncle Bryan is?"

Peter queried. His friend didn't know.

"Well, he is not here. He is at Heaven."

Thoughtful pause from his friend.

His friends response, "My mom's mom is in Heaven too."

Peter's exclamation of wonder and awe, " They are at Heaven together."

I have not forgotten Bryan. And evidently, neither has my sweet baby boy. Who knew that he understood, in his innocent, child-like way what has been happening in and around him these last nine months? He just observed and listened and came up with his own conclusions. I made no efforts to explain things to my little Peter. "He is too young to understand", I told myself. He won't remember all this anyway. And yet he got it, spot on. All by his little self.

2009-09-13T16:25:00.000-07:00

Aunt Emmy, Aunt Kathy and Uncle Keith at Family Night watching WIPEOUT!

Gotta have good eats!

2009-09-13T16:21:00.000-07:00

Peter and Daddy watching WIPEOUT!

What concerned parent lets their 2yo watch such savagery?

WIPEOUT!

2009-09-13T15:36:00.001-07:00

We don't have cable in our home. We don't watch TV. I won't qualify our decision here. If you've seen the TV Guide lately, you know there is not much on that an entire family can watch without sullying their selves. But there are exceptions to every rule :)

This spring my parents asked us (cajoled, begged, bribed with banana splits) to stay late one Wednesday Family Night to watch a show that had been giving them stitches in their sides for months. We agreed. I'm not one to turn down free dessert.

The show is called WIPEOUT. You would think since I am so protective of the little eyes and ears in my charge that this show would be wholesome, edifying, family-friendly. You'd think wrong. WIPEOUT is brutal, heartless, violent, inappropriate, and...HILARIOUS. Shameless people compete against each other is these obstacle courses created by sadists. For Fifty Thousand Bucks. Or maybe it is for their 15 seconds of fame? I have no idea.

Each week I am shocked by who makes the cut at their casting calls. Very unlikely characters appear on the screen to face the Big Balls, the Punching Wall, the Raging Bucking Bull or the Final Obstacle course that includes thousands of gallons of ice cold Gatorade and human catapulting and other daring, tortuous hurdles to accomplish before they can cha-ching! their winnings. They don't ever show ambulances or stretchers but you just KNOW that people are getting hurt. What are these crazy contestants THINKING--subjecting their bodies to that agony?

My parents started watching it in honor of Bryan. The guy loved to laugh and I guess he had called my mom and told her to tune in one night. Or maybe it was the Japanese Game Show one? Who knows? But now my family makes the weekly trek to grandma and grandpa's house to watch humans being really foolish. This is NOT extreme sports, it is insanity! I would like to conclude that we have teachable moments and explain the finer points of protecting our health, caring for our bodies, respecting our reputations. But none of that is going on during these Wednesday nights. We are just laughing, switching channels during commercials, and eating bananas splits. Cheers Brother!

Nose Hairs

2009-09-07T10:22:00.000-07:00

I know, I know today is a day "set aside to honor the American worker". It's true--on Labor Day we should be resting. Enjoying a day of laying around doing a lot of nothing. But Bob had work that couldn't wait. His nose hairs needed a good clippin'.

Since we started dating when I was in High School, nose hair clipping wasn't really a part of our relationship. I have been with this man since BEFORE he had chest hair. He shaved once a week when I fell in love with that mug. Two armpit hairs--tops! So dealing with unwanted hair is a recent development in our marriage of 16 years. This morning Bob charged up his nifty Norleco clippers and got to work on those objectionable, unseemly hairs that cause embarrassment to High School teachers standing over student desks each day. I watched. He is in his boxers when he performs this task so I enjoyed the show.

The whole thing just makes me laugh. Hysterically. You see, my BROTHER BRYAN bought Bob the handy-dandy Norelco clipper set with twenty-nine attachments. How many undesirable hairs do men HAVE to merit that many specific attachments?Anyway, Bryan was thrilled with his purchase one Christmas and since I wrapped all his gifts, I knew in advance what Bob would be receiving this particular yuletide offering. To say that I was skeptical of this gift's merit is an understatement. I could not even imagine why anyone would get excited about nose hair clippers. Oh how little I really understand about my other half! Or my brother!

Bob was thrilled with his gift. Elated. Couldn't wait for his inaugural first run. And guess who was right next to him, standing at the mirror in his shorts, waiting patiently for his turn to clip, clip, clip those unseemly hairs? My brother. It is a mental picture that will make my sides hurt and my eyes crinkle to my dying day. Bob and Bryan, with that medieval torture device whirling up their noses. Laughing and screaming. Their eyes watering from the humor and the pain. Evidently clippin' nose hairs hurt--even if you do have an expensive modern gadget

helpp.

I wanted to include a picture of my man with that swirling dervish up his nose this morning but Bob flatly refused. I tried to persuade him, by pointing out that my favorite blogger continually post pictures of her man. And I just know HE loves it. The malboro man and his hiney. But mine just told me to get out of his face with my camera. So you'll have to close your eyes and join me in the mental picture, and enjoy a good laugh on Labor Day. If its not too much work. I didn't even have to use my imagination since the image in indelibly etched on my mind. Thanks for a good chuckle bro.

Sloppy BKs?

2009-09-05T18:37:00.000-07:00

This post will likely provide way too much information, TMI as my girls like to interject with a blush when I have embarrassed them again by rattling on with my big mouth. It will reveal telling details about the kinda girl I truly am. Even if I do like to pretend like I've got it going on. TMI, free of charge tonight: I made Sloppy Joes for dinner. What does that tell? I know and you know it is the weekend and I should be reserving these kinda meals for hurried weeknights when I am racing back and forth from ballet or Costco or wherever in dreadful Temecula traffic. But I am lame and not very good at meal planning or cooking or homemaking or ...so we had a cheesy meal on a night when I should have been grilling steak, baking potatoes and making cookies from scratch. But since I never do that--weekend nights or otherwise-- we had Sloppy Joes for dinner. Before you boo or berate me, let me state for the record that my man is easygoing and not inclined to complain about what I put on his plate. Or bowl. I have been know to plop the cereal box on the table and say, "have at it!". So much for being a domestic goddess. That leads me to this funny little tidbit about my brother. And this blog is about my brother after all.

Bryan went shopping one Wednesday night in preparation for our monthly and/or weekly family nights. The nights when he commandeered my kitchen or my mom's. And made a mess. I mean a meal. One This night he was hankering for a joe, a Sloppy Joe. He headed to the market and returned with big country hamburger buns, frozen french fries just waiting to be broiled, and three big 'ole cans of Mamwich. For those of you who have class and taste, let me explain. It is the stuff that makes joes sloppy. Some tomato, sugary, saucy stuff.

Bryan opened up those cans and slopped them into the pan ready and roaring to heat up some grub for his hungry clan. The only problem was: Mamwich doesn't include the meat. Everyone knows you have to add you own browned ground beef. Everyone except my 30-something single brother. Ha! Ha! Thanks for the laugh bro. I needed it tonight. And even though I may still be a class-one dork, I made sure my Sloppy Joes had meat!

Pete Pete the Preschooler-Age 2

2009-08-29T13:26:00.003-07:00

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Smiley Reilly-Age 12

2009-08-29T13:23:00.001-07:00

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Kate the Skate-Age 9

2009-08-29T13:19:00.001-07:00

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Sam-Mandu-Age 8

2009-08-29T13:18:00.003-07:00

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Aidan Bug-Age 8

2009-08-29T13:16:00.001-07:00

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Back to School

2009-08-29T12:33:00.001-07:00

The weeks before school started around my childhood home were a flurry of activity and preparation. My mom had to get us new clothes, new shoes, new Pee-Chee folders, and whatever else we HAD to have to get us going in our new grade. Each school picture except Bryan's fifth grade photo is in the youtube Photo Memorial at the top of the blog. He was such a cute kid. Those freckles and long lashes. Those big 'ole buck teeth (I had 'em too until mom paid for braces and headgear for us both). When I look at those pictures, a bunch of "first" days of school flash through my mind.

Except the year I went to Grant Middle School and he spent an one more at North Broadway Elementary and his senior year at Escondido High, we always went to school together. I never had to walk onto campus without an ally. At least in theory. There was that day on our way to middle school when he purposely "rubbed" tires with me while we were our riding bikes to school. I ended up being driven to school by a good Samaritan since my knees were thrashed that time. But for the most part, we travelled as a team to first days of school. It was good to have someone on my side. Blood related and all. Especially the year Adrian the stoner chick had it out for me. And the year Liz the gang banger wanted to hurt me. Bad. Oh boy. How did so many people want to hurt me? I was a nice girl. With a big mouth. Having a brother proved helpful on many occasions. And Julie Beach. She was one brave friend who stood by when the lunches were being squished into laps. School was brutal for me at times. Thank goodness my brother had my back.

These last two weeks have been a whirlwind of commotion and chaos in our home. We started back to school over here. Unlike my mom, I didn't need to hurry to Gemco for book covers and lunch boxes. Instead, we cleared out the old (half-finished) curriculum from last year and made room in our school room for the new stuff. My kids don't need to cover their books, since they usually return them to the library. They don't need new school clothes since its so hot here right now they wouldn't be able to wear their fall selections anyhow! I spent many "first" school days melting in my new fall outfit just so I could finally wear it even when it was triple digits hot. What planet was I from? I remember Bryan wanting Vans shoes so desperately one year. Money must have been tight. He got Alphabeta specials: fake vans which he doctored up with a sharpie. Creative fellow. My kids don't even know what name brand clothes are. For shame!

Their first days of school around here means back to routine, definitely getting out of jammies before lunch and hitting the books by 9am. Daddy goes back to work. We brush our teeth more regularly than in summertime. But my kid's school experience is light-years away from Bryan's and mine. Weird. I don't have to pull blankets back and squirt kids with spray bottles filled with freezing water to get them going to make it to school on time. That was a part of my mom's morning routine. Frazzled woman. I don't have to pack lunches. If mom forgot, she'd run by the corner 7-Eleven for deli sandwiches, bagged Doritos, and a custard pie. She even dropped it off at the school office for us. What a mom. My girls do lunch around here. I'm a slug!

There is no threat of beatings upon arrival at school since they are home schooled. Wait, I take that back. "If you're gonna play rough, you gotta be tough! ". My new mantra for the wrestling and tackling taking place between brothers and an occasional sister. Maybe their existence isn't warp speed ahead after all? I hope and pray my kids grow up to like each other. Despite the fact that they don't have traditional "First Days of School" to bond them. Or custard pies in their lunches.

I attached some photos of my kids first week of school commemorated by a Pancake Breakfast at my best friend's home. There was dozens of kids, hundreds of pancakes, chocolate chips, sausages, plenty of whip cream for all. A feast Uncle B would have been proud of. And these funny mug shots--we have some from year's past when we used to go to IHOP for our first day of school tradition. We liked it so much better this year. Thanks Mer. Another "first' without my brother. Next year will be a cinch. Since you know I don't do nicknames, enjoy his funny pet names for the kids too.

Mr. Blue

2009-08-22T12:20:00.000-07:00

I was a Yaz fiend during my high school and early college years. Don't laugh. I am an eighties girl remember? In honor of my fascination with Natalie Merchant, I named my goldfish Mr. Blue. The song is playing on my playlist right now. It is a weird song. I don't even understand most of the lyrics. But the part where she sings,

"I'm Mr. Blue and I'm here to stay with you.

And no matter what you do, when you're lonely, I'll be lonely too."

resonated with me. Recent break-up? Teenage angst? AquaNet inhalation? I have no idea. What did I have to be blue about then? Silly, silly girl. But I was thankful for my fish and I loved him (her?). I had a special pink aquarium and rocks and a little castle for his amusement. Some greenery to make him feel lively and free.

The summer after I graduated from high school, I went with missions organization for three months to a dozen countries in Europe. It was an amazing time. I was there right after the Berlin Wall came down. I remember having a quiet moment in a place called "no man's land", a sandy strip with guard towers and barbed-wire. Only months before my visit, anyone would have been shot for sitting where I sat that summer. Bryan was back home finishing up his senior year of high school. Similar circumstances :) High school is brutal.

While I was travelling, I left my Mr. Blue fish in the care of my capable family. I left plenty of fish food, treats, distilled water (I was a very conscientious pet owner back then for those of you who know me and are shaking their heads.) and handwritten directions for his care. Bryan and my parents pledged their word to look after him. It was fish, I know. But I loved him. He was there when I was lonely, after all. Silly, silly girl.

I returned a changed gal. The transition from my mountaintop experience to the return to my regular life was going to be tough. At least that is what the grown-ups warned me. I wasn't afraid. I had Mr. Blue. And he was here to stay with me.

So after three month abroad, I walked into my room at home and there was my fancy pink aquarium. The water was so black I could not even see the castle. Or Mr. Blue. Where was he? I had abandoned Mr. Blue and my family had forsaken him. Oh the angst.

Bryan came up behind me and said, "Don't worry sis, its alive. I have no idea how but it is still swimming." And he was. Mr. Blue survived. And Bryan made it through high school, even without the barbed wire and guard tower, a desolate and dangerous place. He was resilient. Like Mr. Blue. He survived. No thanks to Mr. Blue however, since he had apparently forgotten the little fish existed.

Whenever I hear Yaz' Mr. Blue, I think of my brother. Isn't that weird? I KNOW he was NOT a Yaz fan. Think Metallica and Ozzy and dead little chicks. Mr. Blue definitely did not comfort Bryan. But he made it out of high school alive with out him. So there's that. And so did I. Since school is so much on my mind lately, I needed that little reminder. Reilly is fast approaching high school age. Blink. Before you know it. Maybe I will get her a fish?

Grumbling and Grunt Work

2009-08-06T19:15:00.000-07:00

Peter in the hole Daddy dug for our new tree.

Summer 2009

This summer, my family has begun a number of home-improvement projects. Remodeling our garage into a game room. Removing 30 year old UGLY junipers from the front yard. Planting our flower beds. Installing a new patio. Replanting our lawn. The list has been long. Bob has been working really hard to complete the projects so that we can start the school year with our house back in order. He is such a hard worker. And a really nice guy. And the bread winner in our family. And a wonderful daddy. And my best friend, my favorite peron. And a hunk.

And a hard taskmaster.

I love him. I do.

But he is brutal when it comes to manual labor. Immovable.

When Bryan and I were pre-teenagers, my dad insisted that we help out in the yard one weekend. In our rural childhood home, there were slopes covered with iceplant. Mixed with a bunch of weeds. Dad required us to get up early one Saturday morning (can I say that I was not/am not/will NEVER be a morning person?) to share in the family responsibility of caring for our home. Bryan and I were less than cooperative. We grumbled and groused. We wheedled, whined and whimpered in unison.

But it was effective.

Man, we were good. When Bryan and I collaborated, glory, we were quite the team.

My poor daddy never asked us to work in the yard again. From that time on, Dad always recruited undocumented migrant workers to do the grunt work around our house (oops! there goes his chance to run for public office! ssshhh. don't tell.) These hard working men would ride their bikes to my house knowing that my Dad would feed them lunch and pay them fairly. Poor, poor daddy. I guess this way was easier than coping with the incessant complaints from his ungrateful children. The very ones he pinned his hopes for his old age on. His firstborn. And his son. We were supposed to work the soil along side him in harmony and helpfulness. Not.

Fast forward to this summer. Bob is working relentlessly without a word of complaint, making our home lovely. And he expects his wife and kids to pitch in as well. On one of the 100+ degree days, after planting for hours, I snivelled that he didn't love me like my daddy does:

"My daddy always paid someone to do my hard work for me. I'm hot. I'm tired. I don't want to do this anymore. Can't we get someone else to do it. Pleeeeeeeeease?"

Dear husband of mine didn't even skip a beat before letting me know that he would happily hire someone to finish up our planting. But he would have to take all the plants back in order to afford it. Drat. The scheme that Bryan and I had perfected as children didn't work on the overseer in charge of yard work around here. Not on my man. No way. Not a chance. All my best bellyaching (and I am good, really good at complaining--huh Meredith?) didn't affect Bob in the least. I finished the planter projects. In the heat. Hard work is good for character building.

Okay, I need to finish this quick. I don't want my kids reading over my shoulder and getting any ideas. Of revolt. Of staging a mutiny of hard work. Yammering just isn't as effective as it once was. Drat.

My Twin

2009-08-02T16:27:00.000-07:00

I am nearing 40 years old. Just like I did when I was 16, I lament my still acne-prone skin. It is such a bummer. I thought for sure that if I did my time in my teens, I would be released from my vexation as a well-adjusted, extremely self-confident adult. No such luck. I still have pimples. Is that too real for you?

To add insult to injury, my brother had nice skin. He was never afflicted with acne as a teen or an adult. Needless to say, he wasn't very compassionate and understanding of my pathetic pubescent plight. He was my brother, after all, AND a guy.

So I have this huge red bump on my face right now and my children have been trying to be inconspicuous in their staring and discreet in their comments:"what is THAT?" I tried to explain the bane of my existence, trying not to put the fear of puberty in them. My thorough scientific explanation was lost on them. My daughters just say that they are never going to have acne (like you get to decide?). My boys just like the word "zit".

The blemish on my now wrinkled, middle-aged skin made me think of this funny story. My parents, brother and I were out to dinner sometime in the late eighties. He had a mullet and an earring. I had big bangs and shoulder pads. And a zit. It is bad enough to suffer through acne when the rest of the world politely pretends that they don't notice the mark on your face. But to have a cold hearted, callous, crass, unfeeling...well, ummh... younger BROTHER is just too much. Bryan was sitting across from me at Marie Calendars and exclaimed the words that have been seared on my heart forevermore. Here they are:

"If that thing had hair, you could name it and call it your twin!"

To be fair, my parents endeavored to hold in their chuckling. I want to believe that they attempted to be tender and sympathetic. But they didn't try too hard. All three of them busted into big belly laughter. To this day, I am scarred. Not just scars from acne either! In fact, I don't think I ever forgave Bryan for those heartless words. And since he is dead now, I think I will. Right now. After I lick my wounds and remember the anguish of that moment--you clear-skinned, indifferent, funny brother of mine. My kids, who are racing towards their tumultuous and acne-prone teens, will be lucky to miss out on that menacing milestone with Uncle B. See? I am learning to look at the bright side. And to forgive.

For the Record

2009-07-27T07:50:00.000-07:00

Okay, just to be sure that you don't think my family is from Kentucky or anything: it is all perfectly legal for my dad's brother to be married to my mom's sister. So, for the record, the blond on the far right in the top picture is my Aunt Barbara. The freckled boy in the center of the bottom picture is my Uncle John--they are married now. See? No problem. Just to clarify that there is nothing funny going on in my family tree. Okay, there is SOME funny stuff going on, but you know what I mean! My last blog may have left some uncertainties. Now you know.

Parker Family (pre-twins, Aunt Kathy and Uncle Keith weren't born yet)

From the left: Bryan's mom: Victoria, Aunt Peggy, Aunt Emmy, Aunt Shirley, Aunt Barbara, Uncle Larry, Grandma Florence. Circa: 1950's

Klungreseter Family (pre-Uncle Karl and Aunt Ingrid)

From left: Grandma Birthday, Uncle Eric, Uncle John , Grandpa, and Bryan's Dad: David

Circa 1953?

I need some more pictures of these two families. Any relations out there with some good ones? I will pay handsomely for your contributions :)

With Hope

2009-07-24T19:58:00.000-07:00

There is joy. Lots of it. I just needed to pay attention. To the little things. My youngest son's irresistible dimples. My oldest daughter's quiet and graceful blossoming. My middle girl's tender motherly care for her brother. The quick gleam of curiosity and mischief in one son's eyes. The determined focus of one boy--his stick-to-it-tiveness brings joy to my heart. A molten sunset on the horizon. The sound of waves crashing on the beach outside my tent, lulling me to sleep. My husband catching his first wave--three whole seconds of surfing. S'mores over a campfire. Reading a good book with no interruptions. Grieving with Hope. Not like the world mourns, but with eager expectation. Joy. In the morning. Thank you for answered prayers, Lord.

This week my heart welled up with joy each time I caught myself thinking of my brother. I was one blessed sister. It may be true that I think about Bryan more each day since he died than I ever did when he was an accessible, active, present fixture in my life. His face, his huge grin and long-lashed brown eyes, flashed before my mind so many times this week.

We vacationed right on the Pacific Ocean this week. Out-grown tent, over-used airmattresses, forgotten flashlights, icky-yucky gross bathrooms, expensive showers--the whole bit. I confess that Bryan and the beach really shouldn't go in the same sentence. He hated the sand. I have no memories, NONE, of us ever playing in the waves together or building sandcastles or burying each other in the sand. Last year Reilly had a beach birthday party and Bryan even conveniently got out of attending. Once he came after we had spent the day in the sun and surf but only because I bribed him with a campfire hotdog and s'mores. The man could not turn down hot dogs blackened on a coat hanger. With mustard.

But seeing Aidan race to the toilet barely making it reminded me of my brother's ability to time his dash to the bathroom just in the nick of time. He never wanted to interrupt his fun even when nature called. And seeing our cousin John come up from the shore made me take a deep breath and glance away. John and Bryan look so alike. Of course. His mom is my mom's sister and his dad is my dad's oldest brother. Even John's long toes in flip flops made me think of Bryan. And that tattoo--each member of John Jr's family memorialized Bryan forever with a tattoo. Listening to the Eagles with Bryan's Uncle Keith and his "nephews", Justin, Mark and Wyatt. Eating boxes mac n' cheese. Driving past D Street in Encinitas. A dozen different times a day I think of my brother. And I smile. He was such a great guy. I was so lucky to share my life with him. He brought me joy. And his memory still does. I can't wait to see him again.

Joy Comes in the Morning

2009-07-18T08:32:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I finished another book on my summer reading list: Betty Smith's Joy in the Morning. I liked it. It felt reminiscent of many of my early married days (oh the angst and insecurity!) and my first pregnancy (oh the angst and insecurity!). Then in my quiet time I read Psalm 30:5 which reminds me: "Weeping my endure for a night (or 216 nights) but joy comes in the morning." This morning, coincidentally (or NOT!), I was reading the confessions of my favorite blogger and her post was entitled: Joy Comes in the Morning

(you can read it here: http://thepioneerwoman.com/blog/2009/07/joy_comes_in_the_morning/#comments)

Well, I may be a bit slow to the draw but three times a charm, or whatever that pithy saying is. I hear you God. I am waiting for the joy. I am expectant. I am anticipating the pleasure of it. I am waiting for your joy which is my strength.

The Pioneer Woman ended her blog with this line:

"Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion."

I agree with her (she stole the line from a movie, can you name it? no fair looking at her blog first!). But I haven't been laughing this week. This morning I prayed and asked God to give me more happy, smiling, belly-busting joy-filled stories about Bryan. I can't remember any now. But stay tuned! I have a feeling the best are yet to come.

Daisy

2009-06-30T14:00:00.000-07:00

If you stick with me, I will eventually come to my point. This is Bryan's story, honest.

I am in a book club with a few of my girlfriends. This summer we read Seabiscuit. I enjoyed it. To follow up my reading satisfaction, I checked out the PBS documentary on the famous Horse of the Year from 1938. It really is an amazing underdog (or underhorse?) story. Lastly, I rented the Hollywood version of the story with Toby McGuire. All three of narrative perspectives: the journalist/author who shared fascinating tidbits about the life of jockeys and our culture during the Depression in her novel, the documentary facts and and archived pictures added dimension to her words, and finally the melodramatic license used by the directors tugged on my heartstrings in the academy winning movie. I feel like I am an expert on all things horse racing right now.

But to be honest, I would not have read the book unless I had to. I am not a natural animal person. Some people are dog people, some folks love tennis, others are gourmet cooks, I love people. So I don't usually chose books about animals. But I had to for the book club. Anyway, how does all that relate to Bryan? Be patient, I'm getting there.

Bryan loved underdog stories. And the story of the broken horse and his broken jockey making a remarkable comeback fits the bill for an amazing down-and-out tale with a triumphant ending. Incredible courage and tenacity against great odds. Bryan read the book when it came out in 2001. It was a sports book. It won rave reviews. Bryan was an avid reader. He had the movie in his collection. I know he liked it. He told my parents to go see it. So last night when I was watching the movie, and the actor playing Tom Smith, Seabiscuit's quiet and reticent trainer, said his line: "You don't throw a whole life away just cause he's banged up a little. " I immediately thought of Bryan. And Daisy.

We used to have a kitty named Daisy. Actually, when we were newly married, we practiced our parenting on our two cats, Baxter and Daisy. Baxter was neurotic (thank goodness I practiced on a cat first!) but Daisy was sweet and snugly. She was a gentle lap cat. Right before we moved into our first home, Baxter ran away and sad Daisy was left to mourn the loss of her companion. Awwww! We proceeded to have babies three and four within months of moving in and I confess that I was overwhelmed. Four kids, all three years old and under. And a depressed, needy cat.

Bryan to the rescue! He took our sad cat and spoiled her rotten. I mean it. His girlfriend and he overfed her, gave her Evian water, and spent hundreds of dollars for her at the vet. Daisy cat loved to sleep on my brother's back. Bryan liked her quiet, comforting companionship.

At the end of his life, Bryan faced hard times. Hard choices. One of them was about Daisy. He was trying to get a new roommate and not everyone wants to live with a shedding, snuggle cat. A sick cat, at that. Daisy had tummy troubles. She vomited several times a day. Medication hadn't helped her. First Bryan called me and asked me to ask any and all of my friends if they wanted a cat. A quiet, cuddly cat. Who vomits regularly. No takers. Then he called again and asked if we would take her back. "No way Bryan!" was my incredulous and emphatic answer. "You are going to have to decide what to do with her, little Brother. Be a man. Either take her in an put her down since she is so much trouble. Or find a new home for her." That was my ungracious and unmerciful response. I am ashamed to admit it here. But I need to tell this story. It is cathartic.

Bryan started crying. He refused to even consider ending the life of a cat who had been his comfort through so much. Just because she was banged up a little. I didn't understand then that he was in despair and was struggling just to stay above water in the ocean of troubles that was overtaking him. He was tormented. But I didn't understand that then.

Bryan WAS a man. One of the BEST men I know. He wasn't complaining or seeking my pity for the difficult consequences he was facing. He just wanted me to help him. And I told him to be a man. It is one of the greatest regrets of my life. This conversation that I had with him. Oh to be able to take all the words back and do it all over again. Right. With wisdom, knowing what I know now. I thought I was giving him tough-love. I believed that I was avoiding enabling him by bailing him out of his self-made troubles. He was fierce in his proteciton on Daisy. What Bryan was doing, what he was showing me, was his heart. His broken, overwhelmed, desperate heart. And I missed it. Completely. And there is no way to go back. So I am writing this as a reminder to myself that things aren't always what they seem. And you can never fault with too much love, too much grace, too much mercy. I don't think you can ever have TOO much of those things. To turn back time, and take it all back. But I will press on towards the finish line in my race and learn from my mistakes. Maybe you will too.

When I think about it tonight, it makes me so sad. It almost makes me physically ill. He was being a man. A better person than I ever could be. He knew that you don't throw in the towel on others just because things get tough. I didn't understand that he identified with Daisy. They were both broken and banged up. They needed someone to help them. Bryan instinctively fought to protect Daisy, even if keeping her didn't make sense or wasn't practical. He was so loyal like that.

Daisy lives in Carlsbad with Bryan's very good friends Gary and Carrie. I am so grateful that Bryan didn't give up on her even though she was banged up a little.

An American Rite of Passage:Prom and other silly things

2009-06-17T08:15:00.000-07:00

Homecoming 1989-Bryan, Mom, Me

One bathroom-Two kids trying to get ready for the same dance!

Bryan and a date whose name I don't even remember. Notice the year?

I only point it out since there were different girls for most dances.

Sadie Hawkins Dance
Bryan and Salina
Spring 1990

Same Year-Senior Prom-Different Gal
Bryan and his senior year sweetie Salina

Even though Bryan's Memorial Service is a blur, one thing stands out in my memory. Salina was there. I hadn't seen her since 1991 when their high school romance fizzled. But she came to remember my brother. She brought with her special mementos that I had never seen. She had saved them for all these years. And Salina gave them to my parents. Articles from the North County Times with Bryan in the pictures. His senior practice jersey for football. Photos. Herself. Her sobbing self. It moved me more than anything else that I remember from that day. There were other girlfriends there. Ones he dated for much longer. But Salina came. I was moved by that.

I guess it just make me think of how many lives he had touched in his thirty-six short years. He had many girlfriends over the years. I didn't meet them all. I can't even remember some of their names. I think I didn't even bother to forge a friendship with Salina because I assumed their relationship would be passing. But it left an indelible mark on her. And she came. And I regret that I didn't get to know her way back then: she was a sweet girl. I am so glad she came. And if you are reading this: "Salina, thanks for giving my brother happy memories and good times. And thanks for honoring those times by coming to his Memorial and giving my parents the tokens you lovingly shared. I am so grateful to you. You are kind"

Now on to some ridicule. I meant to post these in May when Prom was going on around here. Since Bob is a high school teacher, we get to experience some of the springtime hoopla, second-hand at least. And one of my friend's daughter went this year and there were pictures. It all made me feel old. I am getting ready to go to my 20 Year High School Reunion at the end of this month! YIKES! It has been ages since Bryan and I fought over our tiny shared bathroom for pre-prom primping. My mom used to always say that Bryan spent more time in front of the mirror than me. Check out the spiky hairdo on that guy! I'm telling you! It took A LOT of work AND Aquanet to achieve that look. And I remember pouting because my mom spent more on Bryan's duds than mine (she will object to this statement!). Corsages, Photos Opps, dinner reservations, what a racket! How did she endure Homecoming, Winter Ball, Sadie's, Prom EVERY YEAR for BOTH of us for five years--no six years!?! Because Bryan was still dating Salina the year after he graduated and he returned to EHS for his younger date's dances! Oh NO! Then he dated sweet Stefani who was younger still and he went to all those dances for her senior year! That's gotta be some kinda record! Seven years of that silliness.

WOW! What a mom! I salute you Momma! WHEW! You deserve a medal! I feel jittery just thinking about it. And since I have four kids who are three and a half years apart--I am getting queasy. I am not even gonna go there! I am NOT thinking about THAT today.

Six Months and Counting

2009-06-14T20:51:00.000-07:00

I guess I was foolishly thinking that I would be healed or better or this would all be easier by this time--six months. It's not. I still think about Bryan everyday. The loss washes over me at random (and inconvenient times). I feel that aching hurt deep down inside of me and I wonder if it will ever go away.

I was at my friend's daughter's graduation and I cried because it hit me that my brother won't be there when Reilly graduates from high school. Her biggest fan won't be there to make it an incredible night. My brother's cousin is graduating on Tuesday and I lamented that Bryan wouldn't be there to tell Justin how proud he is of him. And then there are the Wednesday night family nights at my parents--it is not the same without him. Mom's macaroni and cheese casseroles make me nostalgic for our childhood. I could go on and on. I just miss him and I feel sorry for myself. And even crying doesn't make it feel better. Nothing does, some days.

Then I am reminded that Bryan is not wishing he were here. Bryan is in heaven, where there are no tears or pain or suffering. I don't think he would come back to this side even if he was offered the chance. Not even to share in these special milestones that are so painful for us without him here this first year. I am not sad for him anymore. His death, the despair in his last days, that was all fleeting. I believe Bryan is experiencing life as he was made for it. Glorifying God. For eternity. When my perspective is shifted off myself, I see his gain and not my loss. To live is Christ, to die is gain. I never understood that truth before. I am beginning to. Slowly. As time is healing my broken heart. I am not sure I will ever understand completely, all the suffering and sadness involved with losing my brother, my good friend. But on this, the six month since he left this earth, I am glad for him.

But I do wish I still wasn't so sad for me and my momma and my daddy. And every one of you who still smiles (or cries) when you think of his witty humor or generous ways. Or a glimpse of his big cheesy grin flashes before your eyes. For all of us, I am so sorry. But not for Bryan. I am truly glad for him.

I miss you Bryan. I miss your hugs. I miss seeing our mom's smile of pride when you walk in the room, gearing up for a good laugh. I miss hearing daddy talk sports over the phone with you. The Lakers wiped out the Magic and he only had Bob to share it with. My kids miss your face. I just ache for missing you. Maybe in six more months it won't still hurt as bad?

Meet the Newest Bryan in our Family

2009-05-30T12:11:00.000-07:00

Bryan Mejia

Birthday May 17, 2001

Honduras

We have a tradition in our family that when our children are old enough to understand their commitment, we "adopt" a child through a relief agency to pray for, support financially, and send letters to. Reilly "got" Andrielle when she was 6. They are the same age and Andreielle is from Brazil. Kate "got" Jenifer from Ecuador when she was 7. They have the same birthday.

Today, I would like to introduce the newest "member" of our family: Bryan Gerardo Canales Mejia. He is the same age as our boys and we chose him (actually we feel like the Lord planned him for us!) because he has their favorite Uncle's name. Even spells it the same way (which is unusual!). We support him through Compassion International and the boys are already excited to become acquainted with their new "brother" through letters and packages. Even though Bryan is almost the exact same age as our sons, his life is very different from theirs. More importantly than our monthly support checks and care packages, we intend to pray for Bryan every week like we have "our girls".

Just another step towards keeping my word, to live BIG in my brother's honor! Now we have a sweet-faced, eight year-old Bryan in our lives to pray for and love. We miss you Uncle B.

PS--Disneyland was indeed bittersweet. Mostly sweet. I would post pictures but I have lost my download part thingie--you will have to wait. I am no good at making Disneyland magical. We almost missed the parade, we visited Toontown AFTER the slurpee place was closed and my mom called me General Kelly for the brisk pace I set. Bryan was greatly missed. But we shared a gumbo bowl in his honor and only cried a few times. We did skip Pirates of the Caribean and we only went on It's A Small World once. He would have been proud of how I utilized "fast pass"--he is the one who taught me the game! Over all, new memories were made and life is moving on. Slowly. My heart will go on. My mom and daddy were troopers and even though I know it was very difficult to have all the memories and emotions swell up inside of them on that first ride, they smiled and laughed and made it a RAD time for our children. I love that about them. They are so courageous. Bryan would be proud.

The Happiest Place on Earth

2009-05-26T17:13:00.000-07:00

Uncle B, Samuel, Reilly, Kate, Aidan and our Mom

Christmas 2002

I could not find pictures of the other Christmases.

Our first family trip to Disneyland

Reilly's Birthday August 2000

Bryan is on the right.

My children have never been to Disneyland without their Uncle B--their "sugar daddy" of sorts. Bryan always made our trips to the Happiest Place on Earth even happier. Starting with Reilly on her 3rd birthday, Uncle B made a yearly trek with our family. The year the boys were born, he started the Christmas time traditions there. Slurpees in Toontown. Lunch at Goofy's Diner. Coco on the bench waiting for the Parade. Staying late until the snowflakes and fireworks. It's A Small World over and over again until he had a turn with each kid in his lap. Tigger santa hat. Minnie Mouse santa hat. Treats. All Uncle B-style. He never tired of the magic. He made it marvelous.

We stopped going because I am a kill-joy, a royal stick-in-the-mud; I did not want him wasting his money on frivolous stuff and extravagance for us. I wanted him to save for a house. Now he is gone. He never bought that house. And we are headed to Disneyland for the first time in almost five years. Without my brother. It is bittersweet. I am praying for more sweet tomorrow when the children's joy, peels of giggles, and twinkling eyes remind me of Bryan. But it won't be the same. Especially not gumbo in sourdough bowls in New Orleans or The Pirates of the Caribbean. I am not even sure I am going to attempt it. That lump is back in my throat. In my heart.

But it will be good. The boys, my mom, and my hubby are all celebrating their birthdays. And it is the Happiest Place on Earth after all. And Bryan is in the Happiest Place Ever. So I guess that may be as good as it gets for now.

MEMORIAL DAY

2009-05-25T19:06:00.001-07:00

Fitz Kidz at Memorial Statue of unknown soldier

Duck Pond Temecula 2009

Dedicated to John Klungreseter Sr.

John is Bryan's Uncle who served many tours in the Vietnam War

Bryan wrote this Tribute to his Uncle while in High School in 1988. He was 17 years old.

"Black Granite"

The brutally sleek face of the cold, unyielding black granite stared down at the camouflaged man in the wheelchair. As he stares back, the cold winter wind glancing off the glazed wall wisps through his hair. This crying shell of a man is one of our Nation's heroes. But our Nation doesn't care. Kindness and friendship, none can spare for these terrible men who fought and died over there. Yet we built them this monument. So the men come and cry in memory of the men they loved who went there to die. Most came today by themselves. Others need help. They paid their dues in that war, in the form of limbs. They have no more. They all come for the same reason. To remember. They walk along side the dark reflective wall. The names etched on the wall seem to say it all. They find the spot of their best friend. They keep whispering his name over and over again. They start to remember how his young life came to an end. They loved each other like brothers. One was always watching out for the other. Then one died. At the time, the other didn't even cry. He is crying freely now. "It doesn't matter anyhow. He is dead. He is gone. You are here. You must go on." They try to convince themselves. It does not work. Most have lost something. People who were there are the only ones they bother. They were there at Tet, at Da Nag, at Ke Sahn. Most of the time they felt they couldn't go on. They fourth Victor Charlie. They fought the NVA. The people they were fighting for wanted them to go away. The only think that kept them going is the that they knew there would come a day when they would be on a plane heading for the good ol' USA. And if they lived through twelve months of hell and they made it to that plane. Most of them didn't know that nothing would ever be the same. So through the sky and clouds they flew and homeward bound they came. Only to be greeted in their country as constant forms of shame. Not as heroes, as was their right. But as villains because they went off to fight. Most did what they were told. Some pushed it and became too bold. But they were all just trying to survive, to save their own lives, to save their buddies lives.

So we built these men a monument ten years after their war. Gave ourselves a pat on the back and said we have evened the score. But all year round you will find them, crying, staring at the black granite wall. Realize, we haven't come close to evening the score at all. The names etched in the cold black stone are the ones who took the fall. For all of us.

Five Months and Counting

2009-05-19T14:41:00.000-07:00

Bertha Pauline Klungreseter (Bryan's Grandma Birthday)

And one picture of Anders Klungreseter (Bryan's Grandpa)
Hjordis Anderson with one of her babies (Bryan's Great Grandma Lolly)
Her long hair is a lovely sight! She is holding Frank Sr.

Hjordis and Frank Anderson
Bryan's Great Grandparents on our father's side

The Klungreseter Family circa 1953?
Pre-Uncle Karl and Aunt Ingrid
Bryan's Dad is the baby

Our Daddy
David Clark Klungreseter

Klungreseter Family with four of the five kids!
Uncle John is missing.
1963ish?
Bryan's dad is standing in the back.

I have no idea how to get this second copy off. It is my favorite childhood pic of my daddy. My oldest son Samuel looks so much like his grandpa. And they both LOVE baseball! And they both have those same Klungreseter pre-orthodonture :)

Another of my favorite Norseman!

Our Dad in Solvang mid-90s

Our dad with his Weston and Anderson cousins. David Clark is the youngest boy.

Our Grandpa's brother holding Aunt Ingrid (I thought this was our Grandpa since brothers look so alike!(top left), Grandma Lolly (top right)

Uncle Karl, Uncle Eric and Bryan's Dad, David Clark

Our dad, David Klungreseter, on his way to his senior prom--

with our mom, Victoria Parker

1970

Our Grandparents

Bertha and Anders

Feeling nostalgic today. Wanted to share these pictures of Bryan's family legacy. Many of these beautiful faces cannot be seen this side of Heaven.

Funny how those Norse genes keep cropping up. Case in point: Samuel David, Bryan's nephew--boy you can see all that Norweigan blood. Miss you Aunt Ingy! Thinking of the party in Heaven today!

Pressing Pause

2009-04-26T18:51:00.001-07:00

The following post is my eulogy that I wrote on the occasion of Bryan David Klungreseter's Memorial. In it, I vowed that I would keep telling my brother's stories. I have been keeping that promise for my kids and me here in this blog. It has been cathartic. But there were two parts to my pledge and it is time for me to begin on the path to fulfilling the second part.

My neighbor's husband of 20 years left his family and the forlorn wife and teenage daughter have been struggling through these hard times. Like every part of their lives, even their lawn has been affected by their loss. They do not have a man to look after the yard. My other neighbors decided to show love to this family by waiting until the mother and daughter left overnight for a camping trip to give a make-over to their neglected yard. Weeds were pulled, sod installed, colorful flowers planted, sprinklers repaired. Their yard looks lovely this morning. Now when these hurting gals come around the corner into view of their driveway and housefront, this beautiful act of love and service will confront them, not the overgrown dying yard that once reminded them of their loss.

My brother, of his own accord, contacted a home for the families of incarcerated criminals and asked to adopt one at Christmastime. Bryan advertised at his restaurant asking for donations and let my parents and I know, told some of his friends to help collect enough things to make a family without a mom at Christmas feel a little bit less sad. He single-handedly arranged for this family with young kids to be blessed at Christmas time. He bought the feast. He asked for the children's wish list and made sure each item was checked off. Bryan arrived in his Santa hat and joyful heart and made the afternoon sweet and beautiful. It was not awkward or dorky. His sincere and genuine compassion on their hurting family was well-received. It was love in action.

There were other times, like when we had tons of leftovers from our Thanksgiving dinner and Bryan decided that we should pack up plates with all the fixings and deliver them to Grape Day Park. It was a park in Escondido with a large population of homeless folks. We walked all around that park for an hour. You know we did not encounter one person that evening in the park with or without a home! But it was his heart for these unknown (and unmet!) homeless folks that stays with me.

Other times, Bryan organized relief efforts for a battered women shelter near his home. Or for the needy people he heard about. He gave generously to all the causes I solicited money for--Cystic Fibrosis Walks, Youth Camp scholarships, the list goes on and on. Not to mention the countless times he invited along a lonely soul to whatever gathering he was a part of! Bryan had a heart for the down and out. And then there is all the ways he served and loved me and my family. We were the direct recipients of so much of his lavish generosity and love.

I said all that to say this: remembering his life as I wrote Bryan's eulogy made me want to be a better person. A person who loves people and pours out his life for them. So that is the next step in my healing journey today. It is time for me to get up from sitting in front of this computer and live like Bryan did. I committed to that over four months ago. Today, I resolve anew to pursue that promise. I want to make my brother proud. I want to make my Lord proud. Since I have so few resources just now, I need to be selective in how I spend my limited time and energy. And I think my kids have seen me sitting here a little too frequently of late. I want them to remember that I loved HUGE like their Uncle. I promised.

I will finish telling his story. Here. Someday. Maybe sooner rather than later. I did pledge to that. I want to have these words bound in book form so that one day my children can read it to their children. I still have a heartload of stories. But right now I need to begin to look for ways and places to pour out my life into others like my brother did. So I won't have as much time for blogging. Thanks for joining me each post as a tribute to my beloved brother's memory, his short life. It was right and good that I did it. And it is right and good that I stop for awhile. Maybe when I begin again, I will have some stories of love lived out like the ones I shared about my neighbor and my brother. I promised.

Eulogy for My Brother

2009-04-26T18:40:00.000-07:00

I gave this eulogy at my brother's memorial on December 22, 2008 in front of a packed out church with standing room only. Rows and rows of people standing--people I have never met in my life.

Breathe.
Stand tall.
Smile.

Good morning. I’m Kelly Fitzpatrick. Formerly Kelly Klungreseter. I am Bryan’s only sibling, his older sister. First off, on behalf of my entire family (and there are a LOT of us!), thank you for putting off your Christmas festivities to be with us today and for joining us in celebrating my brother’s life. It means so much to us. Thank you. Bryan loved a good get-together! I wish here were here with us.

The day before Bryan died, my kids and I gathered around the phone and called Uncle B and left him a voicemail message. We blasted a favorite carol of his, Little Drummer Boy by Jars of Clay in the background. In unison, we sang that we loved him, we missed him, and we couldn’t wait for a visit so we could all watch “A Christmas Story”. Uncle B style. His amazing memory knew every line so he could fast-forward through Ralphie's obscenities to make it G-rated.

Bryan’s cell phone records indicate that he listened to that message. So at least my kids know that Uncle B heard those important words, “We love you!” before he died. But I find that I have more to say. Death is a teacher with painful lessons. Lessons we oftentimes can’t or won’t learn in the clamor and chaos of our busy lives. I have only been enrolled in this school, where death instructs and everything seems to stop when you commence with its severe syllabus, for seven days. This week, I have learned that I cannot wait to do important things. Family pictures, get-togethers, thank-yous, belly laughs, big hugs, I love yous, I’m so glad I’m your sister. Unfinished business. Unspoken words. Great loss. Remorse. Regrets. Even guilt. There is all of that right now since Bryan died unexpectedly, unbelievably. So this morning, I would like to say out loud the words I would say if Bryan were here with us now (and he is, isn’t he?).

Bryan was my first friend. He was my oldest friend. Bryan and I were very different. But we shared every milestone I CAN'T remember. And he was a part of every one I CAN. Since we were only 10 months a part, I learned to skip, skate, ride bikes, play baseball, right beside him. We fought fiercely as children but we always made up. I kept my eye on him, he watched my back. When other kids were playing in the cul de sacs of their tract homes, we only had each other out in the boonies. Poor guy! I know he always wanted a brother. He played barbies with me. I played army with him in the avocado groves behind our childhood home. We built forts and wore fatigues. Bryan protected me on the school yard at recess. He endured all the teacher comparisons. We watched soap operas together, poured ice cold water over each other’s heads in the shower, found particular joy in scaring each other while hiding behind doors or under beds. He stole my earrings. I stole his sweatshirts. He kept Cassie Yusko from beating me up.

My little brother. When his first love broke his heart, we cried and rocked together. I never told his secrets about the parties and the “Poof”. My brother stood beside my husband as we made our promises to one another. Bryan was there for the birth of our first child. All those yucky pink gum cigars! I still chuckle when I think of husband Bob and Bryan standing in front of the mirror clipping their nose hairs together and howling like babies. He took me shopping for beautiful clothes or gave me gift certificates for hair cuts or Clinique when money was tight for Bob & me or when I was feeling frumpy. Bryan’s generosity was boundless. And his taste was better than mine. He’d buy me two cards for my birthday, a funny one and a sappy one. Bryan knew intuitively when I was sad and he would stop at nothing trying to cheer me up or fix it. His big hugs helped drive out the hurt inside. I will miss them.

I wrote his resumes and wrapped all his Christmas gifts. He took me to every cheesy, tasteless movie that came out—and I went, just so I could be with him and laugh. My brother made me laugh—big belly laughs. He made everyone laugh. He was my historian. Bryan’s memory was uncanny—only surpassed by his gift for story-telling. He loved to tell stories. His, mine, yours! I loved to see his eyes light up and hear his latest “version”—Bryan’s stories got better with each telling. He is the only person I have ever let order my food for me in a restaurant. Bryan loved good food, eating it, cooking it, sharing it. He hated to be alone—so he usually arrived with a posse of guys or a beautiful girl on his arm. He was a people person. He was polite to waitress, grocery checkers, old ladies, strangers—I don’t think he ever met a stranger.

But as much as I loved Bryan for being an amazing brother, I think I loved him most as the uncle to my children. Uncle B spoiled them all silly. They celebrated with glee when Uncle B was coming. Cherry-laden Shirley temples, spooky stories by the fire with coco, blanket fort building, story reading, flowers at ballet recitals, tips at t-ball games, Toys-R-Us shopping sprees, many Disneyland trips, Legoland fun, ice skating, snow tubing, treats! My brother, my children's beloved Uncle B, spared no expense, no effort to delight his nieces and nephews. Thank you for teaching my kids how to be a really good sibling. You read to them (Skippy John Jones Forever!), colored with them, crawled around in the dark playing hide-and-seek. You always brought the fun, the treats, the stories. Reilly, Kate Marie, Samuel, Aidan, and Peter adored you, my brother. So did I.

Bryan, you had a huge heart. You were a giant of a man. You did everything BIG. I miss you. Thanks you for 36 years of good times, belly laughs, happy memories, amazing stories. So my brother, as the only one left to carry on our parent’s legacy, today I commit myself to live more like you did: pouring myself out into people. I have never known a bigger people person in all my life. You have always been the one who looked out for me, looked out for mom and dad. Now that job falls to me, little brother. I will do my best to make you proud of me, like I was of you. I will keep telling your stories. Thanks for making my story, with you in it, beautiful. I love you Bryan.

Train Rides

2009-04-26T18:15:00.000-07:00

Bryan lived in Carlsbad. They have a Surfliner--or commuter train that runs up and down the coast stopping at each of the beach cities here in Southern California. We would meet Uncle B at the depot near his home and take the train down to Old Town for some yummy Mexican food. Once, he wanted to go to the Children's Museum first and then head to downtown San Diego. Bryan was always full of fun and exciting ideas to do as a family. I loved that about him. But he never did anything cheap. Hanging out with Bryan cost some serious cash. Either for my parents or him--bless their generous hearts. My family usually picked up the tab for our Bob and me and the kids to play. I think Bryan would have had lots more savings if he hadn't been so willing to hang out and finance our family time. This was a fun day--one of many. I am not sure who is going to pick up the mantle in our family and plan to do these kind of fun things but I sure hope they continue--in Bryan's honor. Hey mom, wanna head to Old Town for some chips and salsa soon?

There are other times and places that were stellar that I will tell here. I don't have a photograph to commemorate these fun times but I have the picture in my mind: of his excited, boylike face, thrilled to be headed to some neat place with our kids. So that Peter can experience, even second hand, his Uncle's amazing zeal for life and creativity, I will tell you about Padre World Series games, Bates Nut Farm Pumpkin Picking, the best slurpees in the world at Toontown, staying late for fireworks and snow at Disneyland, buying out the stadium at Storm Games on Family Nights, and more. And I will remember Thanksgiving past and football games in the mud, wrestling matches and mat maids, black diamond ski slopes and night skiing, Washington Park and his first homerun, Air Band and Born to be Wild, "I Got Friends in Low Places" Karaoke. My mind is racing with images of his wide grin, ear-to-ear and eager for an adventure. Always the life of the party, the center of whatever was going on. But it will have to wait for now.

Reunions

2009-04-24T09:55:00.000-07:00

Some tan guy, Briann, Daddy, Reilly, Jacob, Katelyn, Mom, Aunt Rebecca, Uncle Karl (my dad's younger brother), Kerstin, the coconut gal is not related

My baby returned home last night from her week long trip to Hawaii with her grandparents. Reilly arrived bright-eyed at 12am. I tried to stay up--but Bob sent me to bed to wait/sleep :). I had to leave my warm bed and put on some clothes to greet her sleepy-eyed at the door. It was worth it! Her smile was radiant. She flew into my arms and held me tight. I breathed in the smell of her and enjoyed the feeling of her ever-changing body next to mine. She is getting tall--over five feet now. I can't hold her in my arms with her bald little blond head fitting perfectly under my chin. She is not a baby anymore. But she will always be my baby. Even if she does reach the over six feet tall height predicted for her.

I missed her. The rhythms and routines of my entire day were messed up without her here to make it all "right". I kept counting heads (the bane of a big family--counting heads!) and reminding myself that "incomplete" feeling was temporary. We would be together again soon. I managed our separation by telling myself over and over again that it was just one week. She was having the time of her life. A once-in-a-lifetime trip. I am glad for her, she is safe with my parents, etc. Convincing self-talk! But I missed her.

Reilly left paradise to return to us. Bryan is in Paradise today. And one day my family will all be reunited on the Heavenly Shores, where death is just a memory and tears are no more. The Banquet Table will be set with a feast and we will be together. A luau to blow your mind! I can't wait for that day. Reunited. This separation is just temporary. I am glad for Bryan. He is having the time of his eternity! I am using the same self-talk I used this week with Reilly. But I will be so glad when Bryan wraps his big loving arms around me! I miss him.

I know, I know. I end so many of my blogs that way: "I miss him." But that is the reality of my days. And I know it is true for my mom and dad. Until the Reunion.

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far from the Tree...

2009-04-24T08:21:00.000-07:00

My kids in front of Mission Santa Barbara the year Reilly was in fourth grade. CA History trip up the coast visiting the missions and the State Capitol in a rented RV. Visiting Mission San Gabriel the year I was in fourth grade. The year my daddy "helped" me make my mission project. He made my mission out of a styrofoam ice chest, spray paint, toothpicks and tiny bells. He even made palm trees out of pipe cleaners. This was before craft "kits" ! Boy was he mad when Becky Pool's father made a mission with a real stained glass window and electrical lighting! He was armed and ready the following year when Bryan's project was due--he made sure he got Mission San Gabriel again!

Reilly, Kate, Aidan and Samuel at the Grand Canyon.

Peter is in my belly and unable to join the photo :)

February 2006

Me, Mom, and Bryan at the Grand Canyon

Summer some year

My kids playing a board game in a rented RV.

Somewhere on the coast of California-Summer 2007

Dad playing cards with Bryan and me in our godparent's Hy and Shirl's borrowed RV.

Somewhere in Nevada--sometime in the 80's.

Bob and I are following closely in the footsteps of my mom and dad when it comes to family trips. That is by design. As a child, my family never had fancy vacations.Yet I remember them as the sweetest times in my childhood. Camping, RVing, playing games, visiting family, eating Sugar Pops, and fishing. I think I loved the simplicity of just hanging out. I still do. As an adult, my hubby and I are trying to capture or create that same sweetness for our children. I am not sure if Bryan wanted in on Disney Cruises and other expensive trips to faraway places. As an adult he certainly liked fine things but he never travelled too far from home. But I do know that he and I shared loads of laughter and love and great memories as a result of our parent's wonderful gift to us--their legacy of togetherness. Thanks for planting the seeds Mom and Daddy.

PS-I put some seventies tunes on for today--to help transport you to the day. This was the music of my youth. Thanks Daddy.

Names

2009-04-22T21:20:00.000-07:00

Kelly. Kelly Lee. Kelster. Kel. Babe. Momma. M-OOOOMMMM! Mom. Mommy. I answer to many names. I know by whom I am being addressed when I hear the name they use. I have never been a fan of pet names or shortened names. I like each of my children to be called the entire name their father and I chose for them. We did spend months arguing, I mean agreeing on it. I like their names. I do admit that some nicknames are endearing. Especially if the name's meaning is a shared secret or a charming character trait. Bug, Kate the Skate, Sam-mandoo, BIG Fire, Petey Boy--all names Bryan gave my kids. I get a embarrassed by some pet names though--they feel like too much information. But I do give credence to the idea that names are meaningful--more than just a trendy accessory for life. Bob and I were careful to make certain that each of our children's names had "meanings" we could live with. We intentionally shot down some pretty cool names just because they had meanings like raven-haired (not likely with our genes) and crooked-nosed (very likely with one of our genes but not something one would want to draw attention to), tile layer, warlike, strong-willed. You get the idea. So names are meaningful.

Bryan answered to a bunch of names in his 36 years. BK, Klungie, Son, Brother, Snoos. That last one is the scene-stealer. My dad has called my brother that nick name ever since Bryan was a little guy. I have no idea what it means. Now every time I think of that nickname, a lump forms in the back of my throat and I can't swallow. My dad doesn't have anyone to call "Snoos" anymore. There is no one to call my father and say, "Hey Pops!". That was my brother's special name for my dad. I call him Daddy. Always have. Even though I am a big girl now.

Now I am not trying to diminish the pain I feel as I navigate through the grief of losing my only sibling. It stinks. But Bryan was not my son. I read somewhere that the greatest loss one can ever endure is the death of a child. The parent-child bond is supposed to be the strongest. It makes sense to me, only now that I have children. I guess that is why God chose the parent-child relationship to show His great love for us (John 3:16).

Today I stared intently at my own sons, all three of them, and could not even fathom the agony and despair my mom and dad face in the aftermath of Bryan's death. I am not sure I could survive it. But I know from witnessing my parent's journey this far that they did not believe that they would survive those first hours, days, weeks, and now months. The wailing, the tears, the glazed-over anguished eyes. I remember. But they ARE making it through. They are clinging to each other, their Faith, and their hope of being reunited with their son when it is their turn to go Home. God's ways don't always make sense to me, but I am choosing to trust Him because God has demonstrated His love for me in ways I can never understand. Like giving His perfect Son on my behalf. God the Father had a bunch of names for His boy too. Messiah, Redeemer, Emmanuel, Christ, Savior. I wonder which one was His favorite? Jesus was the one He gave Mary to name her little baby. It means "The Lord Saves". I will have to ask my Daddy what his special name, Snoos, means.

Serenity

2009-04-20T18:16:00.000-07:00

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change

courage to change the things I can;

and wisdom to know the difference.

Long before Alcoholics Anonymous adopted this prayer as their own, my Grandma Birthday claimed it. As a little girl, I remember seeing a beautiful plaque with the words of this simple prayer on her wall. I did not fully understand the words when I was young. I do now. There is a lot of power packed in those few lines.

I have noticed a reoccurring theme in my life recently. A conversation that I have repeated many times in the last two weeks. With Bob. With my best friend. With myself. With God. I don't like doing hard things. My wise husband summed up, "I want the mountain top experience without having to climb the mountain." As for me, I would prefer to take a little pill right now to make my heart feel happier. And I would also prefer liposuction and a lapband than continuing in my futile attempts to rid myself of pernicious belly fat at five thirty in the morning. I think a house cleaner and a laundress to keep on top of the piles and loads around here is in order. Who wants to clean house in this lovely spring weather? I would like to enjoy a vibrant spiritual life without having to pick up my cross and daily follow my Savior in obedience even in the little things, thank you very much. I am a selfish sluggard. I know it. I reluctantly acknowledge the ill consequences of this very fact. But I just don't want to do anything about it. I don't have it in me.

I used to think if I just had enough faith, I could pray my way out of doing hard things. Or maybe I thought I wouldn't have to face them at all? That didn't last long. Then I tried the "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" technique for a while. Bought into the whole,"God helps those who help themselves" theory. Became a regular legalist trying to save my own soul. That didn't get me very far either. So here I am today, a firm believer in Grace alone. I've got nothing in me that can earn the free gift of Grace. I can never repay the favor. I realize my worth entirely because I finally (sort of) understand the Price my Master paid for me. But here is where I get tripped up: I do sincerely want to be known for accomplishing great and heroic things, hard things (for His pleasure, my God's reputation-not just mine). I just don't want to do the work required to actually DO them. You know what I mean? I want it to be easier. Less messy. Way less effort and endurance on my part, if you don't mind.

Alas, I am old enough to know better. Life is not like that. Bryan and I talked about this stuff. I never quite figured out how to convince him of my hopefulness, my enduring optimism (the right word is faith). I firmly believe that though I am a work in progress, He who began it all will be faithful to complete it in His perfect time. I will be made beautiful. And God's definition of beautiful, for those of you who may think it means resembling Angelina Jolie, is to look like His sweet Son Jesus. I could never convey that to Bryan when we talked of these things without sounding simple. My brother wanted to do hard things, good things, be a noble heroic person. Just like me. Something we shared in common. He was somewhere in the middle of the learning curve that I just described when God decided to complete the work and take him home. I don't know why. I can't fathom why I am still here trying to figure it out and his race is done.

Back to Grandma Birthday's prayer, because that is how I think of the Serenity Prayer in my brain, I remembered those curly calligraphied words on her wall. And I prayed them for myself today. Bryan doesn't need me to pray for him anymore. I don't have to try to convince or explain these thoughts to him to be understood. He gets it all. Where once he saw in part like I am left to do today, he sees completely now. I envy Bryan. So I seek the Lord to help be peaceful in the face of things beyond my control: my 6 feet tall Amazon stature, an aversion to olives, my children's inability to hang up their towels after showering, my brother's death (you didn't expect me to be THAT vulnerable, did you?). I pray today for courage, His strength, to do hard things, even when I don't really want to. And God help me with a healthy dose of wisdom today as I try and figure out which is which.

Firstborn

2009-04-16T19:10:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure what happened to this pic? But check out the funny faces!

Uncle B & Reilly Lee Montage

My firstborn is away from home for the very first time in her young life. Besides grandparent's houses, Reilly has never even been to a sleepover. My parents took her to the Hawaiian Islands for a weeklong visit with my father's family there. My sweet girl was elated and excited. Her grin made her face glow for days as she anticipated all the hype: her daddy has always wanted to go so Reilly has heard about what he would do in Maui for years. Reilly barely slept her last night home and couldn't even eat breakfast yesterday because of her "excited belly"--her name for the butterflies she gets before thrilling events. My little miss is blossoming right before my very eyes. At times the only word that I can use to describe her is "radiant" especially when she dances. Her daddy and I are so proud of the lovely young lady she is becoming. She is our pride and our joy--to steal a cliche. My heart is nearly bursting with expectation and anticipation when I think ahead to her bright future.

This trip was a treat, a reward for all the growth we have witnessed in her this last year. Plus my daddy is a softy and since she had such a hard year with medical issues, he wanted to pamper her. The right of the first born. I used to be his little darling! I have been usurped. No longer the apple of his eye. And that is perfectly alright with me. Though I do wish I were with them in Maui right now :)

Here is the sappy part--you knew it was coming. Bryan will not be here to watch her grow in beauty and grace. That nearly breaks my heart. He adored her. The right of the first born again. They shared a very special bond. She wasn't nicknamed smiley Reilly for nothing. And she reserved so many of her best smiles for Uncle B. Even though she is quiet with her grief, not demonstrative and open like Kate and me, Reilly misses him greatly. So I rejoice that she is enjoying herself today. Momma misses you, my honey bee, my sweet pea (just in case she reads this!). I miss you too Bryan.

Futility

2009-04-15T17:56:00.000-07:00

So weird. I logged on to write my blog today just after searching for a sample of the new U2 CD "No Line on the Horizon". I have been wanting to check it out. No luck.Then I signed in here and who should be blaring on this very site but U2--singing their "Beautiful Day"? Close enough. It's a U2 day. Although I never remember my brother being especially fond of U2?

That is the weird thing about a one-side storytelling attempt like this blog. Bryan is not here to round out my stories, to share his perspective, to add what I overlooked or left out, to correct me. I am trying to tell his story. But I can not truly accomplishing that. I have been kinda struggling with that this week. I do have many more stories to share but when I try and share something that captures the essence or just really "shows" Bryan, I am at a loss. I can't do it. I am not him. I can't give the motivation or feeling for why he was who he was or did what he did. I can only give you my view of it. I can only offer bits and pieces of my collage of memories of my brother. I can't make you "see" him or enjoy him or understand him if you didn't know him while he breathed. I won't be able to do that, no matter how hard I try, even for my sweet Peter boy. He will grow up "knowing" the Uncle B I created here. So I feel like this is all a little bit foolish and mundane and useless today. This blog will never be able to do what I set out to do with it.

I tried to remember Easters in the Klungreseter household. I am so scatterbrained and forgetful. I feel like someone snatched a good portion of my cerebrum while I slept last night. My mind is just not what it used to be. I can't conjure up one Easter tradition or morning memory with of my brother when we were little. We did not celebrate Easter together as adults as he usually worked and we usually attended a Resurrection Celebration so I could not even use a more recent story. As I was reading some other blogs I follow and enjoying their offerings of Easter photos and memories, I felt sorry for myself. I can't remember any Easter stories with Bryan.

He would chime in with, "No way sister! Don't you remember that time when..." if he were here to tell his own stories. He had a seemingly endless supply of memory on his hard drive. Wish you were here Bryan to be my storyteller. You are so much better at it than me.

Payback

2009-04-12T17:31:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I was scurrying around trying to get my act together so that we would be on time for baseball. Bob helps coach the boys and I decided at the last minute to get a pick-up game of softball going for the girls. I needed some bases, an extra bat and a glove. I couldn't find mine for my life. Then I remembered that my brother "borrowed" my first baseman's glove. The one my daddy bought me special when I was a high schooler. Since it was not in Bryan's stuff, I am aware that it is gone for good. And it only made me chuckle.

Growing up, Bryan and I had a on-going battle of "borrowing". Okay, it was mostly me borrowing his stuff. I need to confess that at the onset. Especially since my dad has finally figured out how to add his comments to this blog. Keeping me honest :) Anyway, I took Bryan's clothes without asking all through high school. This was the '80s--so cut me some slack. Cut-off sweats and flojos were in style. Besides, form-fitting clothes weren't as trendy as they are now--so I liked his baggy stuff. Even my girlfriends got in on the deal. Once, Bryan recognized one of his sweatshirts on my pal Terri. Boy was I busted when my mom found out. I tormented her by "borrowing" all her stuff with out asking too. So she and Bryan were on the same team--pitted against me.

But you know what they say about payback? My mom spends an unconscionable amount of time grinning when she hears me say things like, "Kate! Bring me my brush RIGHT NOW!". And, "Kate, I need one chapstick and I just bought five. Get me one NOW!" Or, "KATE! Where are my shoes. You don't even where my size yet!". So mom is vindicated. And Bryan is getting the last laugh. I had to use one of my kid's gloves at softball yesterday.

The Mouse and His Boy

2009-04-11T08:37:00.000-07:00

Alright, enough preaching already. I will get off my soapbox and get back to some funny Bryan stories. No apologies though; I can't help myself when I remember that tomorrow isn't promised to any one of us. I just wanted to make sure we all know that Jesus saves. Easter does that to me.

Okay, so we have lately had some issues with rodents around here in the Fitzpatrick home. First, an infestation of little mice. Bob went to work with dozens of tiny traps and laffy taffy. I think we caught ten the first two nights. Then a discovery of great big rats in the garage and shed and junipers caused him to put a few huge well-placed rat traps around the outside perimeter. Disgusting. Rodents gross me out. They freak me out too, if the truth must be told. I wake up in the middle of the night fearing one has eaten a way through my ceiling (they were in the attic) and is peering down at me with its hungry beady eyes. EEWWWW! I am ready to bring in the professionals but I must let my man be our fierce protector.

When I was a kid, Bryan was the rodent specialist. I told you about the mouse he shot clean through in the bathroom while protecting the women and children in the house. Okay, just me. He was only saving me. And then there were the squirrels outside my parents window. He was annoyed by their terrible chirping, could never figure out where the sound came from. When he finally surmised that it was the squirrels who had built a condominium complex in our back slope, he set up shop in the laundry room with his BB gun again. He began his systematic extermination of the critters. No more early morning alarm clocks from non-rent paying squirrels. Rodents. Disgusting.

One spring he was in charge of mouse trap patrol. He set them up and cleaned them out. Not a job for the faint of heart. Bryan carried out his duties with determination and valor. And then he went to check on a trap that had just went off. He found a tiny little mouse struggling and writhing in pain. The peanut butter untasted. Bryan went all sappy. He freed the mouse. Made a little shoebox hospital for it. Ministered to its medical needs as best as an untrained teenaged boy could. Even placed some water and a bit of cheese beside its injured body. He intended to care for it until it made its recovery.

My mom put an abrupt end to those delusions. "Get that thing out of my house Bryan." Out it went, into the cold dark night. I almost get choked up when I think about it.

Bryan was distraught about a disgusting little rodent. When he woke in the morning, his first thoughts were for that hapless mouse. He ran out to see how it had fared and found it dead and cold. He cried. I am not joking. My big brave brother cried. For a mouse that died in one of the traps he set for it. Bryan gave it a proper burial. I think he mourned its death--he felt the weight of his guilt. It was really very sweet. If it weren't so funny. He was so mad at me for laughing. I was a cold-hearted human.

Bryan was not. He was one of the most tender-hearted people I know. He had the gift of mercy. He was always especially moved by the plight of the down and out and the down-trodden. I witnessed him go out of his way to help folks in hard circumstances over and over again. I will save those stories for another time. Today's story shows how even the animal kingdom benefited from Bryan's merciful heart. And so did I. Though I still insist the mice and rats stay OUTSIDE my home.

Matthew 5:7